


I Need A Drink

by unadulteratedstorycollector



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Aurors, Colleague to Lovers, Coming Out, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, HP: EWE, Homophobia, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, but not that slow, depends on how quickly I write, flangst, pub nights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 56
Words: 56,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7219738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadulteratedstorycollector/pseuds/unadulteratedstorycollector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry likes Draco. And maybe Draco likes Harry. Some people are happy about it, but some definitely are not. Will their love be enough to hold them together? Or will they do what everyone expects?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Harry Actually Gets The Balls To Ask Malfoy To The Pub

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Italiano available: [Ho bisogno di un drink- i need a drink](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9166906) by [Narcissa01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcissa01/pseuds/Narcissa01), [unadulteratedstorycollector](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadulteratedstorycollector/pseuds/unadulteratedstorycollector)
  * Translation into Italiano available: [Ho bisogno di un drink- i need a drink](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9166906) by [Narcissa01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcissa01/pseuds/Narcissa01), [unadulteratedstorycollector](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadulteratedstorycollector/pseuds/unadulteratedstorycollector)



Harry looks across the office at the platinum blonde head of the most arrogant, annoying, sexy Auror in the department. He doesn’t know what Malfoy is saying, all he knows is that he must be taking it very seriously. His arms are moving around in an uncharacteristically uncouth manner, and his shoulders are stiff. Harry has spent enough time over the past month staring at him to know that something serious has happened.

“Seriously, mate, if you’re just going to spend the afternoon staring at Malfoy I might as well take all the paperwork home. At least then we can get to the pub at a reasonable time,” Ron grumbles at him and Harry forces his gaze back onto the pile of papers on his desk. Ron’s right. He needs to get this done before he can go for a drink. And after this week, he fucking needs a drink.

“I wasn’t staring,” Harry mumbles and Ron scoffs behind him.

“Whatever, just hurry up will you. Ginny told mum and dad that she’s moving in with Dean and I want to hear how it went.” Harry looks behind him at his Auror partner and smiles to himself. What Ron means is, if it went badly then Dean will be wanting to drown his sorrows and will be more likely to buy them all a pint.

“It’s your parents, Ron. It probably didn’t go badly,” Harry laughs and Ron sticks his tongue out at him before giving him a thump on the shoulder. Harry rolls his eyes and turns back to the work in front of him, pretending that his arm isn’t throbbing.

The scratch of his quill is loud, but he’s had years of listening for dangerous sounds and months of Auror training, and his ear hones in on the soft tap of posh Italian leather shoes as they move towards the booth next to Harry and Ron’s. He glances up to see Malfoy fold himself into his chair, his long, elegant limbs stretching out as he rubs his temples with delicate fingers.

Harry supposes that he’s always found Malfoy fit. And maybe he’s always known that he was insanely attracted to him. Ron has suggested on more than one occasion that Harry’s crush is probably the reason that he spent so much of sixth year staring at him. Harry still maintains he was justified in doing that. Ron finishes his report and slams his quill down on the desk, ink splattering on the wood, and Harry finishes his up before turning and handing it to Ron to sign. He leans over and signs the bottom of Ron’s report and they mark them with Kingley’s name and shove them in their out tray.

“So… pub?” Ron grins at Harry and Harry nods, standing up and leaving his robes on the back of his chair. He doesn’t need them for the pub, and if he takes them back to the house he always ends up forgetting them. Ron slaps him on the back and sends his patronus off to tell Hermione to finish whatever she’s doing so that they can be going.  
Harry glances over at Malfoy. His eyes are closed and he looks like he could possibly murder someone. Or a drink. Harry pauses for a second, before looking at Ron. Ron is staring at him, his eyes warm and he shrugs.

“Do what you want mate, but if you get hexed, don’t come crying to me,” Ron smirks and Harry takes a deep breath, moving to stand next to the barrier between the booths. He looks down at Malfoy, not entirely sure what to say.

“Potter, either say something or leave, but do not continue to stare at me,” Malfoy drawls and Harry cringes. Malfoy opens his eyes and looks at Harry, the steel grey piercing into him and for a moment Harry forgets to breathe. Malfoy continues to stare as Harry stands, Ron chuckling to himself in the background.

“Uh… We were just going to the pub… and you look like you need a drink,” Harry stutters and Malfoy stares at him. He fidgets on the spot, pushing his glasses up his nose even though they don’t need it and running his hands through his thick hair. Malfoy watches him and he takes a deep breath, “would you wanna come to the pub? There’s a few of us going… and uh…” Harry falters.

Malfoy stands and Harry suddenly remembers how much taller Malfoy is than him. He stands his ground, his heart pounding in his ears and Malfoy blinks, not saying anything. Ron descends into actual laughter and Malfoys eyes stay on Harry’s. Harry feels the heat of a blush rise in his cheeks and he’s about to open his mouth when Malfoy smiles, a real, open smile and Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as breath taking.

“A drink…” Malfoy says, turning to pick up his coat, “is exactly what I need.”


	2. In Which Draco Goes To The Pub With A Bunch Of Gryffindors

Draco isn’t sure what possessed him to come to the pub with Harry fucking Potter, but here he is, sat with a table of ex-Gryffindors drinking Ogden’s finest. Ok, he is sure what possessed him. He really needed a drink, and he was being stonewalled AGAIN at work, with people refusing to process any evidence that he brought into the office, and he just wanted to be somewhere with someone who actually seemed to want him.

Even if that person was Harry fucking Potter.

“So, Malfoy, how’s work going?” Dean Thomas leans across the table and gives Draco a large grin. Draco grimaces in return and Thomas laughs, a loud, rolling laugh and Draco wonders if it’s the first time a Gryffindor has laughed with him.

“I find it… frustrating,” Draco sighs, sipping his drink and Weasley grunts from the other end of the table.

“Frustrating? You should try working with boy wonder over here… bloody nightmare, he is!” Weasley points his thumb at Potter and Potter goes an interesting shade of red. It’s not a look that Draco has seen on him very much and he finds it… intriguing. 

“Oh, come on… Harry can’t be that bad!” Granger smiles at Potter and Draco watches the interesting interplay happening between the Golden Trio. He’s so caught up in watching them that a loud barking laugh from the Weaslette makes him jump.

“Seriously? Hermione, you’re insane. Harry is the fucking worst!” Weaslette snickers and Draco finds himself smiling, “No offence babe.” She winks and Potter grins into his pint.

“None taken,” Potter downs his drink and slams the glass onto the table, “Anyone for another?” he asks and is met by a resounding yes from the Weasleys, a shake of the head from Granger, who is clearly designated apparitor for the evening and a nod from Thomas. Draco finishes his drink and holds his hand up for another. Potter’s eyes meet his momentarily and then he nods, weaving his way to the bar.

“So, Malfoy, what brings you to the pub this evening?” The Weaslette asks and Draco looks at her, his face smoothed over. She grins and Thomas wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

“Don’t worry about this one, Malfoy. She just has the infamous Weasley tact,” Thomas gazes down at her and she pretends to be affronted, her cheeks blushing prettily and her eyes shining. Draco feels a pang of jealousy. He glances over at the bar where Potter is leant, laughing with the bar tender, looking happy and warm and Draco starts to feel something. He quickly looks away, ignoring the pressure in the back of his neck.

“You know, I take offence to that Dean,” Weasley says and Granger giggles, wrapping her arm around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. He grins down at her when she pulls away and then looks at his sister. “Anyway, Harry asked him if he fancied a drink, and he said yes.” Draco sighs, wishing that he still had his drink in his hand. He is definitely not drunk enough to be dealing with this group.

“Oh, really… how… interesting,” The Weaslette looks at Draco and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He gets the distinct impression he’s being sized up and he feels his whole body stiffen.

“Why is that interesting?” Draco asks, making sure that he sounds bored enough that anyone would think he doesn’t actually care. Sometimes being a Malfoy is a wonderful thing. Draco tries not to dwell on the times when it isn’t.

“Oh… no reason… just wondered how long it would take him,” she shrugs and Draco raises an eyebrow, looking around at the group. He’s clearly missing something. Granger sighs and leans forward, taking Draco’s hand in hers suddenly, her fingers warm and soft.

“Don’t listen to her Draco. It isn’t interesting, it’s lovely. I, for one, am glad that Harry decided to invite you, and that you decided to come,” her smile seems genuine and Draco tries to remember the last time he’d had a genuine smile directed to him. He smiles back and it feels unusual and somewhat exciting. He’s brought out of his reverie by Potter arriving back, levitating the drinks over their heads. He moves to sit down next to Draco and Draco is suddenly aware of the looks that are passing between the Weasley siblings.

“So!” Potter says, “your mum took the news well then?” he picks up his pint and Draco watches as he takes a sip, the foam making a thin line of white on his upper lip that he licks away with a very pink, pointy tongue. Draco closes his eyes for a second, and then turns to the conversation.

“Yeah… Dean was great! He showed her the place we’re going to rent and talked about where he was going to keep my stuff as he was tidying up after me, and how he was going to pay rent when I was off training…” The Weaslette looks up at Thomas, a warm grin on her face.

“Ha, see this is just one of the reasons that you would never have worked with Harry,” Weasley barks, “he’s as messy as you are!” Potter laughs into his beer, spluttering it everywhere and Granger hands him a tissue. Draco watches and battles with his curiosity. Curiosity is dangerous for Slytherins, but the gnawing feeling stays there as the others start descending into stories of Potter and his messiness.

“What are the other reasons?” Draco asks when there is a lull and everyone freezes, all of them looking towards Potter. A deep red blush rises from his neck and Draco immediately wishes he hadn’t asked. It was probably something horrible, like the Dark Lord had put a curse on him, or he couldn’t live with anyone after his parents died. He turns to Draco, a resigned smile on his lips and Draco hastily plasters a plain, uninterested mask over his face.

“I’m gay,” Potter grins.

Oh.


	3. In Which Harry's Head Hurts And Malfoy Seems To Help

Harry’s head is hurting. Really, really hurting. He clenches his eyes closed and tries to think about what woke him up. The harsh beeping next to his ear gets louder and he cracks his eyes open. His muggle alarm clock flashes next to him and he lashes his arm out at it, knocking it off his bedside table. It lands on the floor with a clatter and continues to beep annoyingly.

Harry groans and tries to roll in his bed, dragging his pillow over his head. A loud banging noise joins the beeping and Harry buries his head further into his pillow, the noises vibrating through his brain. His body hurts and his head is pounding and his stomach swirls.

“Oi, Harry, mate… you’re gunna be late for work,” Ron shouts through the door and Harry jumps, whipping the covers off him. Shit. Work. He scrambles out of bed, and rifles through his chest of drawers for a clean pair of pants. He knows Kreacher must have put some in there. Kreacher is always trying to look after him. Ron bangs again and Harry tugs on his jeans and finds a sort of clean t-shirt from the floor. He pulls open the door to find Ron standing there, one eyebrow raised, looking clean and shaved. He looks Harry up and down and Harry sighs, turning around to change his top.

He comes out of his room in a clean shirt, and Ron nods, turning around and walking to the floo in the living room.

“What happened last night?” Harry grumbles when he falls out of the floo and starts to follow Ron through the crowd at the Ministry. Ron snorts in laughter and grabs Harry’s shirt, dragging him towards their floor. A few of the wizards and witches they pass give Harry a weird look and Harry remembers belatedly that he doesn’t have his robes on.

“You got drunk,” Ron shrugs, as they get close to their office, “we all got drunk. Well, I don’t think Malfoy got drunk, and Hermione obviously didn’t get drunk, but Ginny DEFINITELY got drunk…”

“Then how comes you don’t look like shit?” Harry grumbles and Ron laughs loudly.

“Because my girlfriend is insane and wanted to get into work early and she gave me a potion before she left for work,” Ron smirks before barging into the Auror’s office. Harry ignores the pointed looks from the other aurors as he makes his way to his desk. He slumps into his chair and Ron laughs again and goes to their inbox.

“I feel like shit,” Harry grumbles, his head resting on his desk.

“You look like shit,” Ron murmurs, his face in the file of their latest mission, his hand scribbling notes on a piece of parchment next to him.

“Oh, Weasley, that seems a little harsh,” a voice drawls above Harry’s head and he turns it to see Malfoy leaning against the partition, his robes open to reveal a crisp white shirt and sharp grey trousers. He looks disgustingly good and for a second Harry hates him. Him and Ron. And Hannah for giving him all those drinks last night.

Ron looks up from his file and grins at Malfoy.

“Oh, I don’t know… I mean… he doesn’t have the same t-shirt he had on yesterday,” Ron raises an eyebrow, “but I wouldn’t stand too close to him.” Harry sits up groaning and glares at Ron.

“Since when did you become so…” Harry looks around for the word, “clean?” Behind him Malfoy laughs, a breathy, round laugh and Harry feels his pulse pick up. Ron sighs and hands him the file.

“Since I started dating Hermione Granger…” Ron grumbles, “I’m going to go get you some tea mate…” Ron stands and walks away. Harry runs his hand through his hair, and starts to scan the file. He knows it’s a simple case, three dark wizards dealing in stolen dark artefacts that need to be brought in for questioning. Harry knows it’s a simple case but his head is pounding and his eyes are swimming.

“Potter,” a smooth voice sounds next to him and he turns to see Malfoy holding out a small vial of clear blue liquid, “try this…” Malfoy smiles at him and Harry takes the vial and unstoppers it, downing the whole lot. His head feels instantly clearer and he stretches, feeling his muscles relax.

“Thank you,” Harry smiles at Malfoy, “what was that?”

“Just something I made…” Malfoy shrugs, “thought you might need it after last night.” Now that Harry’s head is clear and not pounding he takes a better looks at Malfoy, enjoying the way that the open robes make his long, lean body look leaner, and the soft blonde stubble that peppers his jaw. His grey eyes are warm as he looks at Harry and his white blonde hair falls gracefully over his eye.

“You made this?” Harry asks, his voice high and Draco raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, Potter… do keep up.” He drawls and Harry feels the blush rise in his cheeks. He places the file down and swivels his chair to face Malfoy properly.

“So… uh…” Harry stutters, “What exactly… um…” Harry feels like his cheeks are on fire and Malfoy smirks at him, shaking his head slightly.

“Don’t worry Potter,” Malfoy sighs, “you didn’t do anything to embarrass yourself.” He turns to slide gracefully into his chair, picking up the file in his in-tray and turning to Terry Boot, his auror partner.

“He’s lying,” Ron says, dumping a mug of tea next to Harry, “You were completely embarrassing.” Harry turns to him and pulls a face and Ron laughs, grabbing the file and dragging Harry into work.


	4. In Which Draco Gets Invited

Draco runs his long fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands. If only his hair was a little thicker, or a little… less floppy. He pushes it back, groaning inwardly when his fringe falls over his eye again. He would slick it back but it reminds him too much of how he was back before…

He shudders and slides his paperwork over to Boot and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. It’s been a long day, a long day he’s sure would have gone quicker if Boot had gone to ask for the portkey that they needed next week to be made. Everything that Draco asks for takes longer than is strictly necessary.

He hears a loud bang and he knows from the thundering footsteps, the laughter, the sudden rise in volume and energy that Potter and Weasley have arrived back from whatever exciting adventure they were just on. He opens his eyes and glances at Boot who raises an eyebrow before swivelling in his chair.

“So it went well then?” Boot says at Potter and Weasley approach their desk. Weasley stops, and Draco turns to look at him, making sure his face is blank and uninterested.

“Oh, yeah, it definitely went well,” Weasley is flushed with excitement, the red of his cheeks clashing with his hair, a slash across one cheek, his robes completely torn. He looks at Potter with a huge grin and Draco turns to glance at him. His hair is a mess, there’s a large smudge on his cheek, blood coming from his shoulder. But he looks... happy, his eyes alight and static energy coming from him. For a second Draco feels something stir within him. He ignores it.

“So you managed to get all three of them?” Boots asks and Draco turns back to his paperwork, one ear on the conversation.

“Ha!” Potter barks and Draco hears Weasley move behind him, “there were four more than we were told about. You think that we would have come out looking like this if there’d been three?” Draco can hear the joke in his voice, the fake arrogance that Draco would have once thought was sincere. But he’s been sat next to their booth for long enough to know better.

Draco starts on the next request for use of Ministry equipment as Potter flops down in his chair. Draco glances at him, watching as Potter tugs his robes off and pulls his t-shirt off, exposing his muscled chest and stomach, the light splattering of dark hairs tangled over his chest.

Draco rolls his eyes and turns back to his paper work. Beside him he hears Boot beginning to pack up for the weekend. Draco squashes the irritation that he feels bubbling inside of him. It isn’t Boot’s fault that Draco can’t get any request granted unless he’s filled out three different forms and gone to five different people.

“I’m heading off Malfoy,” Boot says, clearing his throat and Draco looks up at him, giving him a tight smile.

“Have a good weekend,” Draco drawls and nods his head slightly and Boot smiles back at him before picking up his bag and walking out of the room. Draco sighs, stretching upwards to click his back. His gaze falls on Potter and Weasley for a moment. Potter has a new t-shirt on, and both him and Weasley have their heads down, scribbling fast on reports, working is complete sync with each other. Draco reprimands himself and continues his request.

“You nearly done Harry?” Draco hears Weasley ask, almost a mutter.

“Yeah… can you just sign this off? Then I’m done.”

Draco sighs and runs his hand through his hair again, the two men next to him finishing and standing next to him. There’s a pause and Draco thinks they’re probably talking to each other in that weird, secret silent, language they have. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in through his nose, focusing his mind, and then turns back to the request.

A cough next to him shocks him, but he doesn’t jump. Malfoys don’t jump. He turns to see Weasley leaning against the partition between his booth and theirs, a slightly crooked grin on his face.

“Weasley,” Draco nods his head and Weasley’s grin gets bigger.

“A few of us are going to play some Quidditch if you wanted to come?” his face is open and happy and Draco puts his quill down.

“I should really stay and…” Draco gestures to the paper on his desk and Weasley leans forward, looking at what Draco is filling out. Draco looks beyond him to see Potter standing just behind him, leaning against the partition on the other end of their booth, his eyes boring into Draco, an easy smile on his face.

“A request for use of a pensieve?” Weasley stands up, looking confused, “I didn’t even know you had to fill out a form to use one…” Draco feels his back stiffen and he turns back to the paper.

“Yes, well… I do,” he says, his voice clipped. He picks up his quill in order to continue, but the paper is snatched from his desk. Draco watches in horror as it is crumpled into a ball and lobbed onto Weasley and Potter’s desk. Draco feels the anger rise, but Weasley looks calm and content and Draco is confused.

“I’ll put the request in on Monday…” Weasley shrugs, “come one. We need a seeker who can challenge Harry.” With that Weasley turns and starts to walk away. Draco watches for a moment, before standing and picking up his coat, following the Golden Boy and his best friend as they make their way through the office.


	5. In Which Harry Decides He Has To Do Something

Harry watches as Ron finishes reading over the witness statement they had collected that afternoon. Ron’s long fingers run over every word, a self-filling quill dangling from his mouth as he frowns in concentration. He has more freckles than normal. The last few weeks have been sunny, and now that they’ve found someone who can sort of match Harry’s seeker skills Ron has been dragging them out for games of Quidditch at least once a weekend.

Ron’s frown deepens and Harry leans over to look at what has Ron stumped. Mrs Blake had rambled on a bit, and Harry reads the sentence that Ron is going over, trying to figure out what she could have meant. Ron takes the quill out of his mouth and draws a circle around the offending words. Harry knows before Ron takes a breath what he’s about to say.

“We should definitely have a look at our memories of this,” Harry mutters and Ron glances at him, rolling his eyes and chucking the transcript down on their desk.

“Do you want to go and ask for a pensieve now? Or wait until Monday?” Ron scratches his head, his flame red hair sticking up at odd angles, and rubs his neck. Harry glances at the clock. He really wants to be in the pub in the next fifteen minutes, which is not going to happen if they get sucked into their memories.

“Do you really think that Potter is going to say ‘now’? It’s six o’clock on a Friday, Weasley,” a soft voice drawls behind Harry and Ron grins, his eyes shining. Harry turns to see Malfoy leant against the partition, his grey eyes boring into Harry's. Harry feels the heat of a blush rising in his neck and he fidgets in his chair, his t-shirt suddenly feeling tight around his neck.

“Ok, do you have a spare vial Malfoy, mate,” Ron stands and stretches. Harry turns and frowns at him, not really sure what Ron is thinking, his mind still on the relaxed way that Malfoy is standing, the easy smile, the intense eyes. Ron looks at him and sighs, rolling his eyes, “by Monday the memory might be warped. We can take them out now and leave them here to be looked at later…”

Harry nods and gets his wand out as Malfoy hands Ron a vial. Harry watches as Ron mutters, pulling a long, thin strand of silver out of his temple and placing it in the vial. He hands it to Harry who starts to pull the memory out of his own brain, trying not to think about Malfoy and how close he is behind him.

“Right,” Ron exclaims cheerfully when Harry is finished, “come on then.” Harry stands, shoving his wand into his pocket and leaving his robes on his chair as the three of them walk out of the office. He almost doesn’t notice the curious looks anymore, people wondering why the Saviour of the Wizarding World is hanging out with an ex-Death Eater. They leave the room through large double doors and start to head towards the Disapperation point.

As they get to the room Harry glances at Malfoy. He’s shaved recently, his strong jaw smooth and angular, and his hair is stubbornly falling over one eye again, making him look dishevelled and horribly sexy. Behind him Ron scoffs and Harry turns to glare at him, knowing exactly what he's thinking, and not wanting to hear it. Again. Ron raises one eyebrow and then with a spin and a loud crack, is gone. Harry looks back at Malfoy who smirks at him.

“As riveting as this conversation is,” Malfoy drawls, “I would like a pint.” And with that he’s gone. Harry sighs to himself. He needs to do something about this… crush. He closes his eyes and thinks about the way the Malfoy smiles at him and decides that the best thing to do would be to try and seduce him. That is, if he is in any way seducible.

Harry spins and finds himself outside the pub. Ron and Malfoy must already be inside because Harry can hear Hannah Abbott call to Ron from across the room, and the deep roll of Neville’s voice sounds immediately afterwards. Harry pushes the door open and is flooded with the heat and noise of the pub on a Friday night. Hermione is sitting at a table talking to Ginny, both of them laughing loudly. Neville is stood with Ron, clapping him on the back and handing him a pint of butterbeer. Hannah leans over and says something to Malfoy and Harry starts.

Malfoy has taken his robes off to reveal a tight, slate grey shirt and trousers that Harry has definitely not seen before. He’d have remembered the way they smoothed over Malfoy’s disgustingly perfect butt. He can feel the pang of desire and the twitch of his cock as he watches Malfoy gracefully take a drink and move through the people to get to Hermione and Ginny. Ginny stands up and throws her arms around his neck and Harry just knows that Malfoy will be giving her a wry grin.

“Harry!” Neville shouts and Harry snaps out of his stupor. He smiles at his friends and moves towards the bar. Ron is staring at him, shaking his head slightly, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“You know, you don’t have to be so obvious about it,” Ron says when Harry arrives next to him and Neville lets out a large, barking laugh.

“Ah, leave him Harry. He can’t help it if he’s obsessed.” Neville turns to Hannah and takes a pint of butterbeer from her, handing it to Harry.

“I’m not obsessed…” Harry mutters, taking the pint. Neville and Ron stare at him for a moment and he groans, “ok, fine. Maybe a little…” Ron give Neville a triumphant grin and Neville rolls his eyes.

“So what you planning on doing about it then?” Neville asks and Hannah comes to lean on the bar next to them. Harry looks over to where Malfoy is talking to Hermione and Ginny, his eyes warm and interested, his long fingers carding through his hair.

“I don’t even know if he likes men Nev,” Harry sighs, unable to take his eyes off Malfoy, “What am I supposed to do?” He shakes his head to himself and misses the look shared between Ron, Hannah and Neville. Malfoy stills for a moment and then his eyes are on Harry’s, a heat flowing between them, and a soft blush rising in Malfoy’s cheeks.

“You know, Harry sweetie,” Hannah says, touching Harry’s arm, “the best way to find out it to ask him.” Harry glances at her and she gives him an encouraging grin. Harry nods and points towards the table, leaving his friends at the bar.

“Oh… here we go,” Ron laughs behind him and Harry ignores him, his heart racing, his palms sweaty, as he goes to try and find out why Malfoy blushes when he looks at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my first ever Drarry and I'm slightly terrified and also insanely thankful for the kudos and comments and such. Please, please feel free to leave any constructive feedback - anything you'd like to see, or questions that you'd like answered? Let me know! Hope you all like it.
> 
> (Constructive feedback please, not just random unhelpful comments... not that you would give that because you're all awesome, lovely people!)


	6. In Which Draco Realises He Needs To Talk To His Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this part has taken so long to come out! I promise I will be quicker with future parts!

Draco clutches at the serviette in his lap and tries to resist the urge to run his hand through his hair. He’s slicked it back, because his mother thinks it looks better that way, and because he is really on this ridiculous date for her. He feels the frown tug at the corner of his forehead, and he takes a deep breath, settling his face into one of placid indifference.

“Mother says you’re working?” Astoria Greengrass smiles at him from across the table and he looks at her. Her dark hair falls over her shoulders and she peers up at him demurely. His mother would approve of that. She likes demure women. Her eyes are large and she flutters her eyelashes as she looks at him.

Objectively he can see that she’s very pretty.

Objectively.

“Yes, as an Auror,” Draco smiles and Astoria smiles back, cutting her food into small pieces, her fingers long and delicate. The quiet scrape of metal on fine china fills the large restaurant and Draco picks up his wine, taking a sip. It’s good wine, round and warming. And not at all what he wants. His mind slips to a slightly warming pint of butterbeer and a raucous table. Draco pushes the thought away.

“Do you see yourself working at the Ministry for long?” Astoria asks before taking a small mouth-sized bite and chewing carefully. Draco feels his back stiffen. He’s well-rehearsed in this conversation, having had it on more than one occasion with his mother and father. He wasn’t expecting to talk about it tonight.

“For the foreseeable future,” he drawls, smiling politely. He picks up his cutlery and cuts a bite of food, not really tasting it, but knowing that it tastes good. At these prices it should taste like fucking nectar and ambrosia. Astoria nods slightly, and Draco watches her. She is enchanting, beautiful even. He can see why his mother wants her as her daughter-in-law.

“Your mother suggested that perhaps it wouldn’t be… permanent,” her voice is smooth and light and Draco knows from years of training that she’s pushing for something. He feels his hand twitch for his wand and he has to remind himself that he’s in control. That nothing bad is going to happen. His robes feel too tight around his neck and he tilts his head slightly.

“Oh?” Draco raises one eyebrow, his heart pounding in his chest, anger bubbling in his stomach. His mother. He grips his cutlery harder, his knuckles going white and he tries to resist the urge to run his hand through his hair. Again.

“Perhaps…” Astoria leans back and fixes him with a strong gaze and Draco stills. He’s reminded of Daphne for a moment, sitting in the common room, watching with disdain. “Perhaps if you had an heir.”

“Astoria,” Draco takes a deep breath, trying to steel himself. He puts his cutlery down, and looks Astoria in the eye, “I enjoy my job. I worked hard for my job. I do not plan to leave it any time soon.”

“Not even after we’re…” Astoria pauses and Draco closes his eyes. Right. He really needs to talk to his mother. He runs his hand through his hair, feeling the crispness of the gel in his fingers, crunching it slightly. He knows it’ll be a mess. He doesn’t care. It’s a chilling thought, because he always cares, but right now there are more… pressing issues to deal with.

“Astoria, I don’t know what my mother has told you…”

“I just feel like we shouldn’t skirt around the issue any more…”

“But it isn’t going to happen.” Draco sounds stern. He knows he’s using the voice that he uses in interrogations. He knows he’s being… harsh. Astoria frowns, creasing her perfect features and Draco sits back, smoothing his hair back down, regaining his Malfoy composure. He thinks he’s probably been spending too much time with Gryffindors. Astoria relaxes her face, her eyes warm.

“Draco, darling,” Astoria smiles, leaning across the table and resting her hand on his arm, “I don’t think you can really say that. We all know your family isn’t in a position to turn down a match like this. Our marriage is the only thing that will save the Malfoy reputation in respectable circles.” She nods and removes her hand, placing her cutlery together and dabbing at the corner of her mouth with her serviette. Draco clenches his fist in his lap and watches as she rises, smiling at the waiter as she weaves her way through the restaurant, people looking at her in her elegantly figure hugging robes. The waiter leaves the check on the table and Draco throws some galleons down, not bothering to look at he’s much he’s tipped. It’ll be enough.

Astoria comes back and he holds his arm for her. They walk through the crowd and Draco is aware that eyes are on him, on them, speculating. Astoria gives his arm a squeeze and he glances at her, watching as she looks giddy with it.

He really needs to talk to his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave kudos and comments!


	7. In Which Harry Complains And Ron Has Enough

Harry thumps his head down on the table, the sudden shock of pain running down his spine. But that’s fine. Pain is fine. Harry is used to pain. If he thinks about it, which he has been, he’s used to being completely confused about Malfoy as well. That doesn’t make this situation any more annoying.

“He’s so fucking hard to read…” Harry groans and he feels Ron slap his hand on his back, before a loud plonk on the table. He tilts his head to see a bottle of butterbeer. Good. Ron clearly understands what sort of night this is going to be.

“Mate, your whole job is to be able to read situations… and Malfoy ain’t that hard to read.” Ron takes a large swig of his bottle and Harry sits up, absentmindedly rubbing his forehead, feeling the soft ridge of his scar against his fingertips. It’s been a while since he’s noticed it.

“But I can’t read him,” Harry sighs, taking a gulp of his drink. It wasn’t fair to be moaning to Ron. He knew it wasn’t fair. He’d spent the last few… well, months moaning to Ron about Malfoy. Ron probably deserved some sort of break. Harry sighs again and takes another sip of butterbeer. A loud bang at the front door makes Harry jump.

“Hello?” A voice calls from the front of Grimmauld Place. Harry smiles to himself as he hears Hermione take off her shoes and move through the house, a heavy thud of a bag filled with books landing by the stairs. He can’t imagine not hearing those sounds in the house. He could never live alone.

“We’re in here sweetheart,” Ron calls and Hermione walks through the house, whispering slightly as Crookshanks meows at her feet. She comes into the kitchen and Ron slides a mug of tea he’s had under a Statis charm over to her. She takes a sip and then presses a soft kiss to his forehead and Harry feels a familiar twist in his stomach. It’s ridiculous to feel jealous of them. But sometimes that’s all he wants. Someone to kiss him on the forehead just for making tea.

“Oh,” Hermione sighs, relaxing back into her chair and looking over at Harry, “it’s one of those nights.” Harry grimaces at her and takes another swig. The bubbles tickle the back of his throat pleasantly, and he lets himself relax. Except the gnawing feeling in his chest is back and he’s thinking of Malfoy and, oh fuck.

“Harry is having difficulty reading Malfoy, even though he’s spent a ridiculous amount of his life staring at the man,” Ron fills Hermione in and she nods, looking at Harry with soft eyes.

“What are you having problems with?” She asks, ever pragmatic and Harry shrugs.

“I dunno… everything?” he starts to pick at the label on his bottle. He glances back at the pair, knowing that they won’t be satisfied with that answer. Because it wasn’t really an answer and because Hermione likes talking about things and because she’s started to rub off on Ron in a horrible way. “I don’t know if he’s interested,” Harry sighs, leaning back in his chair, “I don’t even know if he’s interested in men! We’ve spent weeks hanging out with him, and sometimes I think he’s up for it. He does this cute blushing thing sometimes, and I swear I’ve seen him staring at my cock a few times after we play Quidditch…”

“Yeah, we don’t need details,” Ron interjects and Hermione scowls at him. He shrugs, finishing his bottle and moving to the fridge to get another.

“But then he doesn’t respond if I flirt with him, and he went on that date the other week with Daphne Greengrass’ sister…” Harry moans, ignoring Ron, and thumps his head back on the table, not noticing the look Hermione and Ron share. He thinks about the times that he's caught those slate grey eyes wondering over his body, the flush of pleasure making his cock twitch slightly. He was so sure Malfoy would have made his move at one of those points, when they were naked and alone and wet after Quidditch. Harry had been having longer showers just so he could be alone with Malfoy for a little bit longer, but nothing! Not even a suggestion!

“Oh Harry…” Hermione mutters, leaning over and rubbing small circles into his shoulder. It feels nice and Harry leans into it. It’s been a while since he’s been with anyone. Harry finds the thought sobering. Maybe he needs a fuck.

“To be honest mate, I don’t think he really enjoyed that date…” Ron mutters, sliding another bottle across to Harry and sitting back next to Hermione, his arm slung around her waist, “I mean he clearly-“

“I think the point is, Harry,” Hermione interrupts and Harry sits up to see Ron scowling at her. If he was less worried about his situation then Harry might try to think about why that is, but he can’t be bothered. “You haven’t actually talked to Draco about this. He might surprise you.” Harry groans and downs half his new butterbeer.

“But what if he doesn’t like me… what if I’m imagining things?” Harry can hear that he’s whining, and he takes a deep breath, trying to make his heart stop pounding.

“Then it’s awkward for a bit and we all move on,” Ron says, his voice forceful, “But you won’t know until you try to shag him, and at least then you won’t be sitting here bitching about it!” Harry glares at him and Ron laughs.

“Wanker,” Harry scoffs, a smile playing on his lips as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, yeah… love you too you bell-end,” Ron grins and Hermione groans, standing up and leaving Harry and Ron laughing in the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying it!
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments and kudos - all very much appreciated!


	8. In Which Draco Does Something He Has Never Done Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologise now for how sickly sweet this came out. It was NOT meant to be this fluffy... I had a rough day and this is what happened.

“Oi! Malfoy!” A loud voice shouts and Draco glances over heads to see Longbottom waving at him from the other side of the large muggle park. He nods slightly and starts weaving his way through the crowds of people enjoying the first properly warm weather of the year. Small children mill around his legs and long-suffering parents give him soft smiles. He smiles back, the smell of heat and the feel of the sun on his skin making his heart swell in a disgustingly Gryffindor manner. Maybe he needs to spend less time with them.

“Here you go,” Weasley says, handing him a bottle of muggle beer when he gets to the edge of the large picnic blanket. Draco takes it gratefully before realising that he can’t use his wand to open it. Not in a muggle park. He looks around to see what the others are doing. Weaslette and Granger seem to be drinking wine out of plastic cups, and Longbottom, Thomas and Finnegan are sitting with already open bottles.

“Um… you just…” a voice stutters behind him and he turns to see Potter, looking slightly flushed. He’s wearing jeans and a tight black t-shirt that makes him seem… Draco takes a deep breath and shoves the thought out of his mind. Potter takes the bottle out of Draco’s hand and uses a weird piece of metal to open it. He flicks the cap at the cooler and hands the bottle back to Draco, his green eyes shining.

“Thank you Potter,” Draco smirks, “I am quite capable of opening a bottle myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Potter grins back, “What’s this called?” he holds up the thing he’d just used to open the bottle and Draco look at it.

“Bottle opener,” Draco tilts his head slightly, keeping the question out of his voice. If it is called anything else then it would be ridiculously defying logic. He can tell by Potter's slightly deflated shoulders that he’s right. Draco’s lip twitches and he places the bottle to his lips, letting the beer flow over his tongue. It’s a sharp, citrus taste and Draco thinks maybe he’ll join Granger and Weaslette with the wine after this bottle.

“Draco!” Wealette shouts from her spot on the blanket and Draco raises an eyebrow, trying to hide the smile stretching across his face. If someone had told him three years earlier that a Weasley would be excitedly calling his name across a picnic blanket in the middle of a muggle park he would have hexed them. He meanders over, keeping his back straight, making sure that he can see everyone around him. Granger places a cushion on the ground next to her and he folds himself onto it, keeping his long legs stretched out in front of him, hoping not to crease his chinos.

“Remind me why I’m sitting on the ground in a muggle park?” Draco drawls, focusing on keeping his voice even and bored and Weaslette laughs, shoving at his foot with hers.

“Because Harry thought it would be nice to do something in the sun, and I didn’t want to watch you play Quidditch anymore, and Seamus likes drinking and a picnic in the park gives him an excuse to do that,” Granger smiles at him and takes a sip of her wine. Draco raises an eyebrow and nods slightly, looking over at the rest of the group. Maybe he should have asked if Pansy could come. He thinks about how she would respond to sitting on the ground drinking muggle alcohol and immediately thinks no. It shocks him to realise that he’d rather be here with this group of Gryffindors than his Slytherin friends.

“Where’s Abbott?” Draco asks, and Longbottom leans over from his conversation with Thomas and Finnegan.

“She had to work. She wanted to be here…” Longbottom smiles and Weaslette coughs, her eyes going wide. Draco’s sure he’s missed something, but he doesn’t have time to ask what.

“We all here?” Weasley shouts over the noise of the group and they all stop and turn to him. He glances over at Potter and Draco gets the feeling that whatever it is that he’s missing is bigger than Abbott not being there. “Right… I’ll make this short because if I don’t Seamus might kill me…”

“Too right mate!” Finnegan shouts and Thomas laughs at him. Draco smiles and then turns to look at Potter. Potter’s eyes are on him, deep and green and warm and Draco feels a tug in his chest. He takes a deep breath and looks back to Weasley, resolutely ignoring any feeling he might have towards Potter.

“Ha-fucking-ha. Ok, so Malfoy,” Weasley starts and Draco feels his heart pound. His skin tingles and his head starts to go fuzzy. He feels a soft hand on his arm and glances down to see Granger rubbing him slightly. It’s surprisingly relaxing. “We all know you were a bit of a twat back at school, but it’s been bloody brilliant getting to know you over the past few months. Happy birthday mate,”

Weaslette squeals and gets up to go to a box and produces a large chocolate cake. Draco spins and looks at Granger, his eyes wide and she smiles at him. He quickly smooths over his features and turns to where the cake is being brought to him.

“My birthday isn’t for another two weeks…” he sneers, and Weaslette laughs her loud, barking laugh.

“Shut up and cut the cake Malfoy,” Potter grins at him and for a moment Draco can’t breathe. Potter holds the knife out to him and he takes it, confused and… happy, and cuts into the cake. There’s a large cheer and Weaslette passes the cake to Longbottom to cut properly. Draco looks around at the group of Gryffindors that he supposes are now his friends. He finds himself mildly disgusted at the warm feeling that brings. But only mildly. Potter comes and sits next to him, flopping onto the grass, his black hair wild, his arms starting to tan.

“I don’t understand…” Draco whispers and Potter shrugs at him, a soft blush playing at his neck.

“We always celebrate birthdays…” Potter’s voice is deep and Draco feels himself leaning towards him, “I thought you’d probably never done this.” Draco looks across at the people surrounding him. Longbottom is trying to give cake out to people, but Finnegan is grabbing at it, stuffing handfuls into his mouth. Both the Weasleys have their mouths full and are shouting at Longbottom for more, and Granger is laughing with Thomas as they watch their partners.

He turns back and finds Potter watching him, his eyes intense and dark and Draco feels a lump in his throat.

“No. I never have,” Draco breathes and Potter grins, before getting up to go and get some cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying it! Feel free to leave comments and kudos if you want/think it deserves it. Let me know what you think, if you want to see anything, if you think something is missing... I'll see what I can do!


	9. In Which Harry Tries To Calm Ron Down And Robards Is A Tool

It turns out Mrs Blake was smuggling dark artefacts for her grandson. It was easy enough to apprehend her, her reflexes were so very, very slow and Harry hadn’t even had to try. Ron had been very happy at the end of that day.

That was until he found out that Mrs Blake’s grandson was part of something much bigger and more complicated.

“I’m assigning another pair of Aurors to this,” Robards grimaces, knowing that neither Ron nor Harry will like the idea of having new people on their case, “Not that you boys aren’t doing a fantastic job, but this is bigger than a local smuggling ring, and I need as many hands as I can on it.”

“Who’s lead?” Ron snaps and Harry takes a deep breath. This isn’t going to go well. His head is pounding, he feels sick and now Ron is pissed. He probably shouldn’t have let Ron buy all that firewhiskey last night. Maybe he can go and find Hermione after the meeting and get her to give him something. She always has something.

“You or Harry,” Robards answers immediately, “obviously.” Ron glares at him and Harry reaches out to grab at Ron’s robe. The last thing he needs is for Ron to storm out. Or reach over and punch their boss. Both would be a bad idea.

“Who are the other Aurors?” Harry asks, trying to get his brain to focus. Robards relaxes slightly, mistaking Harry’s lack of energy for agreement. Harry briefly reminds himself that Robards isn’t actually an arsehole, he’s just a bit of a tool, and gives him a small smile.

“Terry Boot and Draco Malfoy…” he glances at Ron and then smiles back at Harry, “I thought Malfoy’s knowledge of dark artefacts would be useful.” Harry feels Ron twitch slightly. As much of a dick Malfoy can be whilst working he’s a great Auror, and his merits extend beyond being an ex-Death Eater. Harry nods once and stands, dragging Ron with him. He gets to the door and turns to Robards.

“Ron is lead. And we’ll need meeting room 1 in half an hour.” Harry doesn’t wait for Robards to reply before yanking the door open and shoving Ron out of it. The door has barely clicked shut before Ron starts, in a volume that Harry thinks is entirely too loud.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” Ron splutters and Harry turns towards the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

“He thinks he’s our boss Ron,” Harry mutters, knowing that Ron won’t stop.

“That doesn’t give him the right to be a fucking dick. Like Malfoy is only helpful because of his past? Or that we need help on our fucking case? We did fine without help whilst hunting down Horcruxes…” Ron grumbles, his broad shoulders hunched over. Harry sighs and gets into the lift, ignoring the looks he gets from other Ministry officials as Ron mumbles under his breath. Harry isn’t sure, but he thinks he hears “fucking prick can shove his concern up his fucking arse” at one point.

Ron continues to mumble as they reach Hermione’s office. Ron pushes the door open and Hermione doesn’t even look up from her paperwork. Harry smiles and shuts the door behind them as Ron goes and flops down on the sofa next to her desk. Harry slides into the armchair that he thinks of as his and waits until Hermione has finished writing whatever letter of complaint she’s writing. He rests his head in his hand and rubs at his temples slightly.

“So what’s happened?” Hermione says, finishing her letter and looking up at the two of them.

“Robards is a twat,” Ron snaps.

“I have a headache,” Harry moans.

Hermione sighs and opens the top drawer of her desk, pulling out a vial of hangover potion and Harry summons it, downing the whole lot. He feels the clear, cold rush of it run through his veins and his head feels instantly clearer. He gives her a large grin and she smiles, rolling her eyes.

“Why are you annoyed at Robards?” she turns to look at her boyfriend who is sitting and scowling at the wall. Now that Harry’s head isn’t hurting he turns to his partner to try to calm him down properly. Not that Robards isn’t a twat. Just that being pissed isn’t going to help.

“He’s assigned two other Aurors to our case because apparently defeating Voldemort is easy work compared to handling a dark artefacts case,” Ron starts to shout and Harry runs his hand through his hair, trying to think about the best way to calm his best mate down. Although if he’s honest with himself, talking to Hermione would probably be his go-to move. “And you know who he assigned?” Ron pauses, his eyebrows in his hairline, “Malfoy! And you know why? Because of his knowledge of dark artefacts. Like that’s the only fucking thing Malfoy is good for. Prick.”

“As much as I appreciate the anger, Weasley, Robards is right.” A drawling, bored voice makes Harry jump and he turns to see Malfoy leaning against Hermione’s doorframe. Harry hadn’t even heard him open the door.

“What’s he right about?” Harry asks, frowning, trying to ignore the way Malfoy’s body looks almost fluid as he stands there, his hair flopping over his eye, his pink lips crooked into a small half smile.

“Hello Draco… looking for these two?” Hermione asks, her tone clearly suggesting that now he’s found them that he should take them away from her.

“I thought I’d find them here. There isn’t an event in their life that they don’t need to consult with you on. I’m surprised you don’t get a visit every time they need to use the toilet,” Draco’s voice drips disdain and Harry feels his heart pound and his cock twitch at it. Oh, this is bad. Finding Malfoy’s arrogance attractive is… very, very bad.

“So what’s he right about?” Ron demands, sitting up and Malfoy sighs, moving into the room, his movements controlled and elegant.

“The only reason he assigned me and Boot to this case is because of my knowledge of dark artefacts,” he holds a hand up as Ron goes to argue, his eyebrow raising into a perfect arch, “In this case, at least, this is the thing I am useful for.” Ron seems to shut up at that and Harry is momentarily impressed until Ron starts muttering again, standing up and pressing a soft kiss to Hermione’s head before leaving, cursing Robards under his breath.

Harry glances at Malfoy before sighing and following his new lead Auror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated! Want to see something? Think something is missing? Let me know! Hope you like it


	10. In Which Draco Doesn't Lose Control In Any Way At All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! The whole thing is written now, so it should be uploaded frequently!

Potter is an idiot. Who runs into an abandoned building by themselves without checking for curses? Idiots. Idiots do that. Potter is an idiot. Draco walks through the halls of St Mungo’s, glancing into rooms, his heart pounding, searching for a shock of red hair. Because Weasley has to be with Potter. He wouldn’t have left Potter on his own in the hospital. 

“Draco!” Granger’s voice rings out down the hall and Draco spins on his heels. She’s standing in the doorway to the Magical Coma Induction Ward. Why is Potter in that ward? Draco sweeps down the corridor towards her, his Auror robes billowing behind him. Normally he’d take them off, but there didn’t seem to be time. He shuts that thought away before it can grow and rolls up his sleeves instead, letting the cool air run over his skin.

“What’s he doing in this ward?” Draco knows his voice is too sharp, too high, but he can’t stop himself. He needs to see Potter. He needs to make sure he’s ok. What kind of idiot doesn’t check for curses. Fucking Gryffindor bravery.

“Hey,” Granger says, running a hand along his arm. He holds back the flinch and looks at her. Her eyes are warm and full of something Draco doesn’t have time to analyse, but she’s started rubbing at his arm and he feels his pulse slow down. “They’ve had to put him into a coma. The curse… they don’t know what it is. They need to run some tests without Harry telling them that he’s fine and trying to stand up. He’s ok, Draco.” Her voice is soothing but all Draco can hear is rushing in his ears.

Draco nods once and Granger pauses for a second before letting go of his arm and leading him down the corridor. It’s too quiet. Potter can’t possibly be in here. He makes too much noise to be in somewhere as quiet as this. Draco’s eyes flitter into the rooms that they pass, not really taking in any details. People are lying in beds. That’s what they do in this ward.

Granger stops outside a door and turns to Draco. He doesn’t wait for her to start talk again. He stalks into the room and freezes. Potter is lying on the bed, too pale and too still. There’s no one else in the room and the lamp is turned down low. Why isn’t there anyone in the room? Granger said they were doing tests. Where are they?

“Where’s Weasley?” Draco asks, his voice sticking in his throat.

“He’s on a floo call to his brother Bill,” Granger’s voice is low and Draco wants to shake her. Why isn’t she more upset? Why isn’t she screaming down the hospital until someone fixes this? Why is Weasley talking to his brother and not here with Potter? Potter shouldn’t be alone. Weasley is supposed to be with Potter.

“Why?” Draco snaps. He feels a soft hand on his arm again and tries to let himself relax into it. Fucking Potter.

“Bill is a curse breaker.” She squeezes his arm slightly and Draco nods once. Good. A curse breaker. And if Granger is happy for Weasley to be calling him he must be a good one. But maybe not the best. Potter needs the best.

“Where is everyone? You said they were running tests…” Draco turns to look at Granger, his eyes swimming slightly.

“They are, Draco… they have to wait…” Draco doesn’t wait to let her finish her sentence before he storms from the room, walking towards the reception. He hears her footsteps following him and he knows she’s going to try to stop him. “Draco, where are you going?”

“I’m going to talk to a doctor,” Draco snaps, “They have to be able to do more. They can’t just leave him lying there. There are lots of curse breakers. Potter needs the best. I have money. I’ll pay for them.” Draco arrives at the reception to find a harried looking nurse and a smug looking doctor. The doctor's eyes flicker down to Draco's arm before his smirk widens. Right, he’s rolled his sleeves up, his mark shining like a fucking beacon on his arm.

“Hello, what can we help you with?” The smug doctor asks.

“Draco…” Grangers voice is stern.

“You can start by getting off your arse and getting into Harry Potter’s room to figure out what the fuck is wrong with him,” Draco schools his features, his eyes set, his jaw strong, like he’s been taught all his life. Commanding. No room for question.

“I assure you, Mr Malfoy, we are doing what we can…” The nurse is using a calming voice. It’s not as good as Grangers.

“You’re not doing enough! What is it? You need money? You need connections? I can get you those!” Draco shouts, knowing that people are looking at him. Granger’s hand is on him again. “He’s Harry fucking Potter. So fucking get in there and fix him!” Draco moves towards the doctor, thankful that he’s so tall. Looking down at people is so much easier when you can physically look down at them.

“Like the nurse said, we’re doing what we can… not that you’d care,” the doctor’s eyes flicker to Draco’s arm. Draco steels himself, anger bubbling in his chest, his heart clenching.

“What’s going on?” Weasley’s voice sounds behind him.

“This man was about to go and check in on Harry,” Draco growls, not looking at Weasley, his eyes burning into the doctor’s. He feels a tug on his arm and turns to look at Granger. She gives him a soft smile and he feels his shoulders slump slightly.

“Bill, this is Draco,” Granger points to a tall man next to Weasley, his long hair tied back into a bun, his face marred with long wide scars, his eyes warm and friendly. Draco nods and Granger pulls Draco towards a seating area as Bill walks towards the doctor.

“Don’t worry,” he stops by Draco, clapping a hand on Draco’s shoulder, “I’ll figure out what’s wrong with him. He’ll be running into trouble again by tomorrow.” Bill stares into Draco’s eyes for a moment and Draco smiles, letting him be led away whilst Bill talks to the incompetent doctor.

“Bill will sort this, mate,” Ron says, lounging on a hard plastic chair. Draco looks back at Bill and watches him nodding, gesturing, looking confident and in charge. Yes. Draco likes Bill.

“Why aren’t you more worried?” Draco turns to glare at Weasley and Granger, sitting in their chairs, not looking upset or angry or anything.

“Oh, Draco… there hasn’t been a year go by since we’ve known him that Harry hasn’t ended up in a hospital bed,” she takes Draco’s hand and pulls him down onto the chair next to her, “he’ll be fine. He’s been in worse scrapes than this.” Draco looks at her, his mouth dry. It isn’t right that he’s been in hospital so many times that his friends are this… calm. 

“Yeah… don’t worry. You’ll get used to it,” Weasley closes his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest and sliding down so that he’s practically lying. Granger looks at him with a loving smile, before turning back to Draco, her hand still linked with his.

“Don’t worry, Draco. We tried not to let him die then. We won’t let him die now.” She whispers, squeezing slightly and Draco swallows.

“Thank you, Hermione,” he breathes, his heart slowing. She grins back and together they sit and wait for Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are very much appreciated!


	11. In Which Harry Is Annoyed And Molly Knows Something

Ron is a dick. Harry is almost 100% sure that Ron’s main aim in life is to annoy him. He scowls across the lawn at The Burrow watching as Malfoy laughs at something that Hermione has said, a suddenly very clingy Victoire hanging around his neck. Victoire is the least cuddly two year old he has ever met, an astonishing mix of Delacour and Weasley that is fiercely independent and definitely not into hanging onto an adults’ neck.

And yet there she is, attached to Malfoy.

“Why did you invite him?” Harry snaps at Ron for the hundredth time and Harry knows that Ron rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses.

“Because he’s a mate, and he wasn’t doing anything…” Ron mutters, leaning back in the deckchair that he’s transfigured out of a plant pot. Harry leans back in his own and watches as the sun plays on Malfoy’s hair, making it shine like a halo around his face, his jaw strong and newly smooth. It can’t be comfortable to hug him. He’s all bone and sharp angles. Although now that Harry thinks about it, Malfoy’s angels are less sharp and more… defined.

“Seamus is a mate who rarely does anything on a Sunday and you’ve never invited him.” Harry grumbles and Ron sighs.

“Take it up with Hermione, mate… she was the one who thought we should invite him,” Ron sinks slightly lower, picking up his bottle of butterbeer from where it’s propped up next to his chair, “I mean… especially after last week. We figured you’d want to start introducing him to the family.” Harry groans and takes a sip of his drink.

“There is nothing going on with us…” Harry murmurs and Ron looks at him, his head moving as slowly as possible.

“But I thought…”

“Yeah, well you thought wrong. He doesn’t like me like that. I still don’t know if he actually likes men,” Harry grumbles, picking at the label on his bottle, the now-normal heavy feeling sitting in his stomach, making his chest tight. 

“But at the hospital he was so… worried,” Ron slides his sunglasses on top of his head and frowns at Harry. Harry shrugs and watches as Ginny comes up behind Malfoy, pulling a silly face at Victoire. Victoire turns her head and nuzzles it into Malfoy’s neck and Harry feels a pang of jealousy run through him. Oh great. Now he’s jealous of a two year old.

“You were all worried at the hospital,” Harry sighs and Ron raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry to burst your bubble mate, but no we weren’t.” Ron says and Harry spins his head round, his eyes wide. Ron blushes slightly and then shrugs, putting his glasses back over his eyes, “to be honest me and Hermione have spent so much of our lives sitting in a hospital with you that when you end up there we just go through the motions.” Harry continues to stare at Ron and the corner of Ron’s lip twitches.

“Well, thanks. Good to see I can count of my friends…” Harry looks away ignoring Ron.

“You wouldn’t have us any other way. If we fussed over you every time you ended up in hospital it would drive you mad.” Ron laughs and Harry’s shoulders slump. Ron’s right, Harry would hate to have friends that made a big deal every time he had to go to hospital, but Ron doesn’t have to point it out. Spending too much time with Hermione. Clearly.

A sudden noise from the house makes Ron start and Harry looks over to see Molly bustle from the house, her hair tired up in a haphazard bun as she gathers up her family to eat. She wanders over to where Ron and Harry are sitting, her hands on her hips, frowning down at Ron.

“Ron… did you transfigure my flowers into chairs?” Her voice sounds stern, but Harry has known her for over half his life and he knows that she isn’t angry.

“Yeah.” Ron grins and she swats him lightly over the head. He slides lower in his chair and Harry smiles, that warm bubbly feeling he always has at The Burrow rolling over him. 

“Well dinner is nearly ready so maybe you can change those chairs back and go and collect your siblings,” Molly raises an eyebrow and Ron sighs, finishing his butterbeer and Vanishing the bottle before standing and turning the chair back into a pot. Harry watches as he ambles away, shouting across the garden. Ginny shouts back at him and they start laughing.

Harry stands, still watching and Malfoy starts to walk towards the house, Victoire’s hand laced through his hair. His long legs move him gracefully and he turns to say something to Hermione who laughs and nods, linking her arm through his free one.

“He’s a lovely boy, Harry. So different from his father,” Molly says and Harry jumps. He’d sort of thought she’d gone back inside. “I’m so happy you’ve found someone.”

“Oh, uh…” Harry feels the heat of a blush rise in his cheeks and he coughs, “We aren’t actually together.” He shuffles on the spot and Molly watches him, years of living with seven children making her very hard to surprise. Harry glances back at Malfoy and sees him looking right at Harry, his eyes dancing, a smile stretched across his lips, looking happy and relaxed and unbelievably sexy. Harry’s heart jumps and for a minute he feels sick.

“Maybe not yet dear,” Molly smiles, patting Harry on the arm and heading back into the house, leaving Harry to stand and watch Malfoy with his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments or kudos are very much appreciated!


	12. In Which Draco Decides Some Things Are Worth Fighting For

Draco looks at himself in his mirror. Smart black robes, hair slicked back, not a single muggle shirt in sight. His parents will be so pleased. He frowns to himself before taking a deep breath and smoothing out the lines of his forehead. Frowning creates wrinkles and lets people know that you’re feeling something. A good Malfoy doesn’t feel anything other than contempt.

Draco’s fingers itch to run through his hair, to mess it up so the bit in the front falls into his eye. He’s caught people looking at that lock of hair, clearly wanting to run their fingers through it. Ok, he says people. Harry. He quickly dismisses that thought. 

Although whilst he’s on the thought of gay men, maybe he should talk to his parents tonight. Astoria is becoming… unbearable, and his father keeps mentioning heirs and rightful places. Maybe if his family are talking about Draco’s… preferences, then they won’t talk about his job tonight. He really doesn’t want to have to explain to them again why he wants to be an Auror.

His throat scratches and he instinctively reaches up to undo a top button, before freezing. His father will not like it if he goes to the Manor with one button undone. One button undone, his hair a complete mess and in muggle clothes. That would go down well. Draco sighs. It’s more hassle than it’s worth. Almost everything to do with his parents is more hassle than it’s worth.

But maybe… maybe some things are worth fighting for. He glances over at his Auror robes, draped haphazardly across a chair, a large tear on the shoulder from the warehouse fight. He hadn’t had time to fix it, what with Harry being in the hospital and then going to the Weasley’s for Sunday lunch, and considering he has five sets of Auror robes these ones just hadn’t been worn since. They’d just sort of… lain there. His stomach lurches again at the thought of Harry lying in the hospital. Bill had been amazing. Efficient and clearly the best at his job. Draco reminds himself to send an expensive bottle of whiskey to him. Theo can choose it.

He’d get used to it. That’s what Hermione and Weasley had said. He’d get used to staying in a cold waiting room, pacing the floor because he wasn’t family, so wasn’t allowed in the room straight away. That bit seemed to upset Hermione the most. That he was always in there alone until they’d figured out what was wrong. Unless he was awake. Weasley had said that whilst laughing. If Harry is awake then he shouts until Hermione and Weasley are allowed in. 

Draco coughs to himself and closes his mind, putting those thoughts away. He doesn’t need to think about Harry. He needs to prepare himself for an evening with his parents. Like going into battle. Fighting. Because some things are worth fighting for. Maybe it is time…

What’s the worst his parents could do? Draco shudders at the thought. Maybe he shouldn’t think of the worst that they could do. They could disown him. Then he would… well. He’d be on his own, not having to live up to any expectations or to have any duties. To just be him. And maybe someone else. But the important thing is that it would be someone he chose. Not someone his mother chose. Not someone his father chose. Not Astoria.

Maybe… Draco walks towards the floo, picking up a bottle of wine on his way. His mother won’t smile as he gives it to them and his father will sneer at the vintage. But he’ll take it because it’s his duty to take a bottle of wine with him when he goes for dinner at his parents. They’ve made it very clear that if he isn’t going to continue living at the Manor then he will at least continue to act like a proper Malfoy.

He takes a pinch of powder and throws it into the fire, watching as the flames turn green. He steps in, speaking clearly, his stomach twisting as he travels through the floo. He sees the parlour of the Manor and steps out, his feet landing on the hard ground as he bends his head to make sure he doesn’t bang his head. Pippi, his mother’s newest house elf, comes up and bows low as he dusts the soot off his shoulders.

“Master and Mistress are waiting in the dining room,” she squeaks and Draco smiles at her. She blushes and walks out of the room as Draco follows her, the portraits of his ancestors watching him as he walks past. Maybe… he could. He could stand up to his parents. He could do what he wants, not what they want.

Draco pauses, not really aware of where he’s stopped. He glances at the hallway to his right, Hermione’s screams echoing in his head. They were easier to deal with before. Before he knew her. Before she laughed with him, and talked with him, and stroked his arm when he worried about… before. Some things are worth fighting for. 

“Master Draco?” Pippi’s voice is scared and Draco forces himself not to jump. Malfoy’s don’t jump. He takes a deep breath and follows her down the hall. Yes. Some things are worth fighting for. Having control of his own life. That is worth fighting for. Harry would fight for that. He arrives at the door to the dining room. He steels himself, takes a deep breath and gets ready to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and kudos are very much appreciated!


	13. In Which Harry Collects A Very Drunk Draco

“I’m sorry Harry,” Hannah grimaces from behind the bar and Harry shakes his head, moving over to where Malfoy is slumped on the bar, an empty glass next to him.

“What happened?” Harry asks and Malfoy lets out a low groan.

“I don’t know,” Hannah shrugs, collecting the last glasses on the bar and lowering the light in the room with a flick of her wand, “he came in here looking completely white… I mean, whiter than normal, and so I gave him a firewhiskey. When that didn’t seem to do anything I gave him another one and he dumped a handful of galleons on the bar and told me to leave him the bottle. By the time the pub was quiet enough for me to check on him he was like this…” Hannah points at him and Harry nods.

“Ok… thanks Hannah,” Harry smiles at her and drags the stool next to Malfoy away so that he can perch next to him.

“Don’t be silly! I’d take him home myself, but I have to lock up here and Neville is expecting me back…” she looks worried and Harry waves a hand at her. She shuts her mouth and nods, moving to finish clearing everything up. Harry leans over, putting his hand on Malfoy’s shoulder.

“Hey… Malfoy, mate. You ok?” Harry asks, shaking him slightly and Malfoy sits up, his grey eyes unfocused and his hair a complete mess.

“Harry!” Malfoy shouts and Harry stills for a moment. Malfoy has never called him Harry before. He quite likes how it sounds. “It’s your fault, you know…” Malfoy frowns at him and Harry thinks about a Sobriety charm. Except those are tricky when you know how much someone has drunk, and Harry isn’t sure, and if it goes wrong Malfoy could end up very, very annoyed, and Harry can’t be bothered to deal with that right now.

“I’m sure it is… how about you tell me all about it at home?” Harry asks, trying to keep his voice soft and Malfoy stares at him for a moment before nodding. He stands, wobbling slightly and Harry moves before he can think, his arm wrapping around Malfoy’s waist. Malfoy stills and then leans forward slightly, his head resting on Harry’s shoulder. Harry closes his eyes for a second, the hard planes of Malfoy’s body pressed against his, his hip bone curved into the side of Harry’s stomach, the smell of expensive cologne and firewhiskey and Malfoy filling Harry’s brain.

“Are we home?” Malfoy mutters into Harry’s shoulder and Harry is shocked out of his stupor. He gives a small wave to Hannah, who smiles at him sympathetically, and then spins on his heel Apparating them to Malfoy’s spacious flat. He lands in the middle of the living room, hitting the back of his leg against the coffee table as he tries to untangle himself from Malfoy.

“Hey, Malfoy, mate… you need to let go,” Harry tries to sound forceful and Malfoy sways, his long arms wrapped around Harry’s neck, and holds on tighter.

“It’s all your fault, y’know…” Malfoy mumbles into Harry’s ear and Harry tries to ignore the soft tickle of Malfoy’s breath against his skin. All he needs now to make this situation worse is an erection.

“Yeah, you said. But I really don’t see how you getting this drunk is my fault,” Harry manages to wiggle out of Malfoy’s arms and slip behind him so that he can manoeuvre him to his bed. Although in retrospect maybe he should have done that from the front. Malfoy really does have a very nice bum.

“No! Not the drinking… telling my parents.” Malfoy cries and Harry nods to himself, not really concentrating on Malfoy’s words. Harry gives him a little nudge and together they start to walk down the corridor to Malfoy’s bedroom. Malfoy stops in the hall and looks at a photo of him and his parents. Harry looks at it for a moment, Lucius looking angry and arrogant and Narcissa looking elegant and bored. But not in the same way Malfoy does. In an unapproachable way.

Malfoy growls and picks the photo up, throwing it down the hall. Harry hears the smash of glass and his heart jumps. Shit. Maybe he should just keep Malfoy moving. He places his hands firmly on Malfoy’s shoulders and continues pushing.

“What did you tell your parents?” Harry asks, not really focusing. Keeping Malfoy talking was proving to be helpful in the keeping Malfoy moving plan.

“That I’m gay!” Malfoy shouts and Harry freezes, his mind whirring, heat flooding over his body. Malfoy is gay. Well… shit. “And it’s all your fault!” Harry can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the pulse running up his neck, and his mind whirring. He steers Malfoy into his bedroom, his cock twitching slightly at the huge four poster bed that takes up a large amount of the room.

“Wanna explain to me how this is my fault?” Harry mutters, pushing Malfoy towards the bed. Maybe he should take his robe off of him. It can’t be comfortable sleeping in it. Harry goes to pull the robe off and Malfoy bats his hand away, his long fingers fiddling with the buttons, dainty and beautiful. Oh, what Harry could do with fingers like those.

“Because! It was so easy for you…” Malfoy groans, sliding the robe off and leaving it in a pile on the floor. He has a very smart shirt on, and trousers that are sinfully tight and for a moment Harry forgets to breathe. “You just… told everyone. And they were ok. They were fine. They were HAPPY.” Malfoy scowls at him and starts to sway and Harry moves, holding onto Malfoy’s arms, feeling the muscles ripple under his shirt as he rocks.

“I’m sorry your parents weren’t,” Harry whispers and Malfoy looks at him, his grey eyes stormy, his lips pink and full and glistening slightly.

“Harry…” Malfoy breathes back and Harry thinks about leaning forward. It’s possibly the first time in his life he’s thought about something before doing it, and Harry feels oddly proud of himself. Especially as Malfoy chooses that exact moment to lurch forward and throw up.

The splatter makes Harry’s stomach turn and he lets go of Malfoy’s arm to reach for his wand, quickly casting a cleaning spell over the floor and Malfoy and his shoes. Malfoy wobbles slightly and Harry gently urges him onto the bed. Malfoy collapses in a very un-Malfoy way, his eyelids fluttering closed, and curls up, his nose nuzzling into his hands. Harry’s fingers twitch, and before he can think not to he slides his fingers through the silkiness of Malfoy’s hair, brushing it off his face.

“Night Draco,” he whispers before Apparating away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos very much appreciated!


	14. In Which Draco Feels Nothing And Harry Smells Good

“So… how you doing?” Weasley leans on the barrier between their cubicles and grins down at Draco. Draco raises one eyebrow, ignoring the stabbing pain through his head and Weasley laughs. “Yeah, you look great.”

“I always look great,” Draco sniffs, his throat hurting. Apparently there is a limit to how much a hangover potion can cure you. Draco makes a mental note to try and create a stronger one without any side effects. Weasley is still grinning at him and Draco sighs, standing up and undoing his robes. His heart jumps slightly as he notices Harry’s eyes darken, skimming over Draco’s chest. He squashes the thought and points to the door. Harry nods, a soft blush rising in his cheeks. Not that Draco has noticed.

Weasley claps him on the shoulder and together they move out of the Auror’s office, heading for the Apparation point. Draco’s skin prickles as his hand brushes against Harry’s and he closes his eyes for a second, breathing deeply. It’s nothing. There is nothing between him and Harry. He is not attracted to Harry fucking Potter.

The three of them walk in silence through the halls of the Ministry, avoiding people as they bustle to leave at the end of the day, their shoes tapping too loudly on the tiles, their excited laughter making Draco’s head spin. They walk past a man selling the Prophet and Draco winces as he sees the date.

“It’s Tuesday…” he croaks and Weasley chuckles.

“Yup,” he grins and Draco runs his hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the fringe. He glances over and sees Harry watching him and his heart jumps. He ignores it.

“No one should be this hung over on a Tuesday…” Draco grumbles.

“Yeah, well… no one should be made to go to dinner with their parents on a Monday, but you are,” Weasley shrugs and steers them towards Apparation, “I’d be drunk every Monday too if I had to do that.”

“No you wouldn’t. Your parents are actually nice,” Draco mutters and Weasley nods once in agreement, pulling a face before stepping into Apparation and spinning on his heel, disappearing. Draco glances at Harry and Harry gives him an encouraging smile before doing the same. Draco sighs, shaking himself slightly, his head spinning and his stomach clenching before he turns on the spot.

He lands with a thud to find two strong hands wrapping around his arms and steadying him. He looks down into clear green eyes and his heart skips a beat. Because of the landing. Not because of the way that Harry smells, like soap and sun, or the warmth of his hands on Draco. Not because of that at all.

Harry gives him a small smile and he feels the blush rise in his cheeks. Fucking pale skin. He thinks about stepping back, about getting space form Harry and his fucking green eyes and amazing smell. Not that he smells amazing. He should step away from Harry. He takes a deep breath, to steel himself, not to get a last smell of Harry, and steps back away from his warmth.

“I can stand on my own,” he raises one eyebrow and smirks. Harry laughs slightly, running his hand through his hair, making it stand on end.

“Yeah… sorry… instinct…” Harry looks nervous and Draco wants to… no. He wants to nothing. He wants to step away and go into the pub and apologise to Hannah and forget that he got drunk there yesterday and that Harry had to come and pick him up and that he felt so good with Harry’s arms around him.  
Not that he’s thinking about that.

“You Gryffindor’s… always trying to be the hero,” even to Draco his drawl sounds more like soft admiration. He winces as Harry chuckles, running his hand through his hair again.

“We try,” Harry nods. They stand in silence for a moment, Draco watching as Harry fidgets on the spot, clearly building up to saying something. How this man defeated the Dark Lord he’ll never know. Well… actually he does know. Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and a fuck load of luck. Draco watches for a moment, his chest feeling tight as Harry shuffles from one foot to the other. Because it’s awkward to watch. Not because he finds Harry unbearably cute when he’s awkward.

“Harry, either say what you’re going to say, or turn around and walk into the pub. Do not just stand there shifting from one foot to another,” Draco says and Harry glances at him before nodding, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“I just… I just wanted to make sure you were ok. After last night,” Harry looks up at him through thick, dark eyelashes and Draco feels something stir in his groin. He ignores it.

“Yes. I’m fine,” Draco can’t help but smile at him, “horrendously hungover. But fine.”

“And… and if you wanted to talk about anything… well…” Harry looks uncomfortable and Draco places a hand on Harry’s shoulder, spinning him towards the door.

“Yes. Thank you Harry. If I need to talk to anyone, then I’ve always got you,” Draco leans forward to whisper in Harry’s ear, his pulse beating in his fingertips.

“Always,” Harry whispers and Draco gives his shoulder a squeeze before pushing open the door to the pub and ushering Harry inside, his heart racing, his head spinning, neither of which have anything to do with Harry fucking Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are loved and appreciated and make my day!


	15. In Which Harry Talks To Hermione And She's Right As Usual

“You’re supposed to be helping me,” Harry groans and Hermione looks at him witheringly.

“I think you’ll find that you’re supposed to be helping me,” she points out, gesturing to the pile of vegetables on the kitchen table. Harry sighs, picking up a peeler and a potato. He could probably do this with a spell, or even ask Kreacher to do it, but Hermione likes peeling by hand. She says it reminds her of the fact that she lived 11 years as a muggle.

“What should I do? He’s knows I’m gay, and I’m nearly 100% sure he’s been flirting with me for the past few weeks, but nothing has happened!” Harry wails, gesturing with his potato. Hermione nods silently and Harry watches her. Usually she would have said something. She always says something. “Hermione?”

“What do you want me to say Harry?” she asks, her voice soft as she peels carrots, “There is nothing I could say that I haven’t already said to you.”

“Tell me what to do!” Harry begs, opening his eyes wide and leaning his head close to her. She glances over at him and he grins up at her. He knows that she’ll give in eventually. 

“Carry on peeling.” She smiles at him and Harry carries on peeling his potato slowly. The great thing about Hermione is that she can’t help getting involved. Harry glances at her through his eyelashes. She has to be thinking of a plan. Thinking of a plan is what Hermione does. Behaving rashly and getting into trouble is what Harry and Ron do.

“Have you tried just telling him that you like him?” Hermione asks, putting her peeled carrots into a large pot and pulling a large bag of parsnips towards her. Harry groans and rolls his eyes.

“Yes!” He feels his voice getting high, heat rising in his cheeks. Hermione sits in silence, calmly peeling parsnips. Harry feels the tension building, the silence making his skin itch. It doesn’t take him long to break. “Well maybe not in those words.” 

“Harry,” Hermione sighs and Harry feels his pulse pick up.

“It’s not my fault! I just… I can’t just tell him!” Harry whines. He can’t. He looks down at the potato, not really seeing it, images of Draco with his long legs and elegant fingers and perfect, full, pink mouth washing through his brain. He feels his cock start to harden at the thought of those lips against his, his tongue sliding into Harry’s mouth. What does he taste like? Are his lips soft, or firm? Does he push back, does he nip, where do his hands go?

There is no way that Harry can just tell him.

“Harry, how can you expect Draco to know that you want him if you won’t even tell him?” Hermione finishes the parsnips and puts them into the pot with the carrots. She stands and walks to the hob, filling the pot with a quick Aguamenti. Harry feels the irritation rising in his chest.

“Because I’ve been so fucking obvious about it Hermione!” He groans and puts his potato and peeler down on the table before running his hands through his hair. Maybe he should have talked to Ron about all of this. Except Ron would have told him to talk to Hermione. Because normally Hermione gives really good advice. 

Harry looks up when he feels her move towards him. She crouches in front of him, her eyes warm and full of concern and Harry feels bad for her. It must be annoying to have him constantly talk about it. At least when he has had other boyfriends it’s been easy. They all wanted a bit of the chosen one. 

“Listen to me Harry.” Her voice is stern and Harry bites back the sarcastic comment. “As obvious as you make it, and as much as Draco knows you like him, and as much as Draco might like you, he is never, ever going to make the first move.”

“But–“

“No. He won’t Harry. He’s a Slytherin. He’s all about self-preservation and so even if he was 100% certain, he wouldn’t risk it.” Her eyes open wider and Harry feels his shoulders slump. “He just won’t.” Hermione sighs, rubbing at Harry’s thighs a little.

“I need to make the first move, don’t I?” Harry breathes and Hermione gives him an encouraging smile. Harry nods, a warm sense of dread and determination settling in his stomach.

Dread and determination are good, he reminds himself. He lived through the war on dread and determination. If he can face death, he can face making a twat of himself in front of Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Comments are read, loved and appreciated! Thank you all for reading.


	16. In Which Draco Has A Visitor With Some Interesting News

“So you like Harry,” Weasley smiles as he steps through the front door of Draco's flat. Draco frowns at him, his heart pounding in his chest, his fingers numb, wondering how Weasley found out where he lives. Weasley looks at him for a moment, his eyes shining before moving past Draco and walking into the living room.

“Please, by all means, come in,” Draco mutters and he hears Weasley snort.

“Sure, mate,” Weasley calls and Draco sighs, practically hearing the laughter in Weasley's voice. He closes the door and walks through his own home to find Weasley sitting in his chair, looking at a very expensive bottle of whiskey. "Do you ever drink normal stuff?" He asks before putting the bottle down of the coffee table. Draco leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to look bored. He's getting worse at that.

“Yes,” he drawls, silently congratulating himself for at least sounding bored, “I drink 'normal' stuff when we go to the pub. But at home I like to drink something of quality.” Draco raises one eyebrow and Weasley stares at him, a small smile playing in the corner of his lips. Draco rolls his eyes and draws his wand, Accioing two bottles of butter beer from the kitchen. He places his wand on the coffee table next to the whiskey and catches the bottles as they fly into the room.

“Thanks,” Weasley takes the offered bottle and uses his wand to open them both, vanishing the two lids. Draco smiles at him and take a sip before folding into the sofa. He crosses one long leg over the other and stares at Weasley, trying to figure out what the fuck he's up to. For a moment they sit in silence, looking at each other and drinking. In the end Draco cracks.

“Why are you here?” He groans. This must be how Weasley is so good at interrogating potential suspects. Harry is awful at interrogation, so it's clearly Weasley who gets people to talk. Weasley grins and places the bottle on the floor where he can reach it without stretching.

“You like Harry.” Is isn't a question. Draco feels the heat of a blush rise in his cheeks

“Oh really?” He runs his hand through his hair, pushing his fringe out of his eye. Weasley’s eyes follow his hand and Draco's stomach twists. Fuck, no. Weasley can read people like a fucking book. Draco reminds himself not to tug at his hair.

“Yup,” Weasley nods, “don't you think so?” Draco takes another swig of his butterbeer and tries to think about it, which is difficult since he’s been ignoring it for… well for quite a while.

“Why do you think so?” Draco tilts his head to one side, something he’s seen Harry do a million times when he wants to deflect a question. Weasley smirks and Draco curses himself. Of course he’d know that move. He and Harry basically live in each other’s pockets. They certainly live in the same house.

“A few reasons,” Weasley holds his long fingers out, counting off on each one, “you blush whenever Harry looks at you. You put up with my ridiculous family to spend time with him. You freaked out when Harry got hurt. And lastly, and I think most importantly, Hermione thinks so and the day that woman is wrong about something is the day that Voldemort comes back.” Weasley’s blue eyes pierce into Draco and he feels his stomach tighten, bile rising in his throat. Well, fuck.

“That doesn’t mean anything…” Draco whispers and Weasley snorts.

“Sure it doesn’t.” Weasley picks his bottle back up and takes a gulp. “He likes you too, y’know.” Draco’s chest expands, his head going light, the back of his neck prickling. He stares at Weasley and Weasley looks around his living room, completely ignoring the panic attack that Draco is having.

“How do you know?” Draco says finally and the smile on Weasley’s face tells him it was the wrong thing to say. Of course it fucking was.

“Because I’ve known him since I was eleven years old." Weasley leans back in the chair, his legs slung over one arm, longer and thinner than Draco's, and closes his eyes, “and he looks at you the same way he looks at a new broom, or a treacle tart.” Draco lounges on his sofa and downs the rest of his butterbeer. Harry likes him. No. Not true. Although now he thinks about it he does sometimes get the feeling that Harry is flirting with him. It’s those times when he flirts back, thinking, maybe… maybe it could happen. 

But it couldn’t. Because he’s Draco fucking Malfoy and he’s Harry fucking Potter.

“I don’t think so…” Draco shakes his head and Weasley groans from his place.

“Fine. The reason I fucking know he likes you is because I seem to spend at least an hour every day sitting with him as he complains that you haven’t made a move. So fucking make a move or I’m going to kill him.” Weasley snuggles down into the chair a bit more, looking pleased with himself, Draco staring at him, not sure what to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are read, loved and appreciated. Thank you for reading!


	17. In Which Harry Makes The First Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to give any spoilers about the plot away, so I've made a note about the story at the bottom. I'm going to try posting every day or every other day because I'm super excited to get this story out!

He’s been thinking about it all day. Well, actually if he’s being honest with himself, he’s been thinking about it since Hermione told him to make the first move. Actually, if he’s being really honest with himself, he’s been thinking about it since Auror training when Draco had apologised to him, Hermione and Ron, and Ron had beaten him at chess.

And that’s as far back as he’s allowing himself to be honest.

“Anyone want another?” Ron’s voice cuts through Harry’s thoughts and he starts, staring at his best friend. Beside him Draco shifts, his long solid thigh pressing against Harry’s and Harry takes a deep breath, trying to stop his heart from pounding in his ears. He needs to be sober for this.

“No thanks.” Harry shakes his head and Ron raises an eyebrow, clearly shocked. Harry opens his eyes slightly wider and glances at Draco and Ron, thank fuck, gets it. He nods and smiles, moving away before anyone else can answer. If they notice they don’t say anything. Harry looks around the table, at Ginny and Dean laughing with each other, their heads bent low and speaking in whispers, at Hermione talking with Hannah and Neville about Hogwarts, at Luna trying to explain to Seamus why he always loses at darts.

“Harry…” Draco says, his voice smooth and low and Harry realises he’s been clenching his hand around the chair next to him. He needs to get Draco alone.

“Come outside with me for a minute?” Harry asks, surprising himself as much as Draco. Draco looks shocked for all of one second before his face smooths over and he raises one eyebrow. Harry can feel Hermione’s eyes on him and he smiles slightly, trying to tell her he’s ok. She’s Hermione. She’ll figure it out.

“Ok,” Draco says eventually, and Harry sighs before standing up and sidling out from his spot. He feels Draco move behind him, not making a sound. Harry’s heart pounds in his chest, his fingers numb and his mouth suddenly very dry. Maybe he should have chewed some gum before he did this. He casts a discrete breath freshening spell as he rounds the table.

“Where are you two going?” Seamus shouts and Luna places a hand on his arm. He looks at her and she shakes her head very slightly. Seamus’ eyes open wide and his mouth makes a little ‘o’ shape. He looks back at Harry and gives him a wink. Harry groans and moves towards the door.

The air outside is cool even though it’s the middle of the summer and Harry takes a deep breath, clearing his head. He turns to see Draco leant against the wall of the pub, his hands in his pockets, a sly smile playing on the corner of his lips. The low light from the lamp shines off his hair, his stupid hair falling into his stupid eye, and Harry forgets for a moment that he had a plan and that plan wasn’t to stare at Draco.

“So…” Harry starts, running a hand through his own hair, sure that he’s making it a mess, but knowing it’s probably a mess already. Draco fixes him with a strong gaze, his grey eyes piercing into Harry and his smile becomes a smirk.

“So.” He sounds bored, but his eyes are shining and Harry thinks he’s blushing. Harry takes a step closer and Draco raises an eyebrow into a perfect curve. His skin is flawless and Harry wants to touch him, to run his hands over Draco’s jaw, to feel that hair running through his fingers like silk. Harry suddenly feels strong, his pulse so hard he can feel it in his throat, adrenalin flowing through him. He moves until he’s standing so close to Draco that their toes bump together. Draco continues to look down at him, not moving.

“Am I… Is this…” Harry tries and Draco scoffs, his tongue darting out to lick at his lip, leaving it pink and slightly shiny and Harry can’t breathe. He lifts his eyes to Draco’s and sees them almost black. “Oh, fuck it,” Harry breathes, grabbing at Draco’s shirt and tugging him forward, his lips clashing against Draco’s.

Draco makes a small noise but doesn’t move away and Harry lets out the breath he was holding, relaxing into the kiss as he feels Draco respond, his lips soft and warm and moving against his. Harry lets go of Draco’s shirt and runs his hand through Draco’s hair, the strands slipping through his fingers, as the other arm wraps around Draco, pulling him closer to Harry. Draco’s hands leave his pockets and move to wrap around Harry’s jaw, one on the back of Harry’s neck, the other running through Harry’s hair, holding him close.

Draco’s mouth opens first and Harry opens with him, his tongue slipping into Draco’s mouth, tasting mint and whiskey and something warmer, sweeter. Draco, he realises and his body melts against the other man. His whole body feels warm and alive and he can’t help the moan that escapes from the back of his throat. He feels Draco smirk into his mouth.  
Harry starts to move his hands, running them over Draco’s back, feeling the hard muscles and pointy bones and he wants to kiss them, to lick at Draco’s skin. Draco pulls Harry closer, claiming him completely and Harry gives himself over to the probing tongue, the slight clash of teeth, the way Draco nibbles at his lip before taking his mouth.

After what seems like a completely too short amount of time Draco pulls away, his hand still on the back of Harry’s neck, the other sliding down Harry’s chest, lightly grazing Harry’s nipple through the soft fabric. Harry’s breath hitches and he looks up at Draco, completely lost in him. Draco’s lips are pink and plump and wet, his eyes clouded and dark, his hair messy and still falling over one eye. He’s fucking beautiful.

“Took you long enough,” Draco drawls and Harry laughs, untangling himself from Draco’s limbs so he can step back and think.

“Yeah, well… if we’d waited for you, it never would have happened.” Harry grins and Draco scowls, a small smile playing on his lips. They stand for a minute, looking at each other and then a loud noise from in the pub makes them jump.

“We should probably go back inside,” Draco says and Harry nods. There’s only so long Dean can keep a curious Ginny at bay.

“Ok,” Harry sighs, watching Draco has he doesn’t move. After a moment Harry realises he’s going to have to take the lead again and he steps forward, pressing a light kiss to Draco’s lips before taking his hand and leading him back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is only about half way through because the story was going to go one way and then ended up going a completely different way. Carry on reading to find out what happens (obviously)!
> 
> Kudos and comments are read, loved and appreciated!


	18. In Which Draco Has Awful Friends And Harry Has A Date Planned

“So where are you going?” Blaise asks from his position on Draco's sofa. Draco looks at him witheringly and Blaise laughs.

“I don't know. Harry said he wants to surprise me...” Draco straightens his tie again, his fingers twitching nervously. He takes a deep breath, slowing his heart down and calming himself. Malfoy's are never nervous. 

“I know!” Ginny sings as she skips into the room holding a large glass of white wine. She flops into the sofa, her wine expertly staying in the glass. 

“Helping yourself to my wine?” Draco raises one eyebrow at her, trying to be annoyed. She grins at him before taking a long slurp. Draco feels his lips twitch before he starts pacing again.

“Don't suppose you wanted to get me one?” Blaise drawls. Ginny pokes him with her toe as Hermione walks into the room, two glasses in her hand.

“Would she ever? Here you go...” Hermione sends one of the glasses to Blaise before delicately sitting on the arm of the sofa. Draco's seen her do this even when she's the first in the room. Weasley said something about always being prepared. Another left over from the war. Draco glares at the three of them.

“I don't suppose I get one?” He snaps.

“No.” Three voices sound back at him and he growls, pacing again.

“You know it's my fucking wine,” Draco scowls at them. Ginny cackles, taking another gulp of wine and Blaise looks bored, because Blaise always looks bored. Hermione sighs, crossing her leg over the other and resting her wrists on her knee, the glass hanging gracefully.

“You don't get wine because you're about to go on a date. You need a clear head,” she says, raising an eyebrow and smirking at him. He should never have taught her to do that.

“What's wrong Draco? Nervous?” Ginny laughs and Draco snaps his head to her, glaring. Blaise snorts before taking a sip of wine.

“Malfoy's are never nervous girl Weasley,” Blaise sniffs twirling the glass in his hand. Ginny guffaws nearly spilling her wine before taking a deep breath and a large sip. Draco tugs at his hair, that stupid bit falling in front of his eyes. Like always.

“You look lovely, Draco,” Hermione says softly and Draco feels a bubble of warmth in his stomach. He straightens his tie again and absolutely doesn't jump when the floo blazes green suddenly.

“All of you out,” Draco points to the door. The three of them blink at him, Ginny grinning, Hermione raising an eyebrow and Blaise looking bored. Draco growls and takes out his wand, thinking about sending a mild stinging hex at them, but thinking better of it. Ginny's bat bogie hexes are legendary, Hermione kept a woman in a jar for a year and Blaise would have no qualms punching him. He sighs and turns back to the floo as Harry fucking Potter steps out of it. He stumbles a bit, making Draco's heart jump, before standing and beaming at Draco. His eyes scan the room. 

“Ah. An audience,” Harry carries on smiling although he eyes Blaise warily. Blaise leers at him and Draco grabs his arm.

“Indeed, let's go.” Draco glares again at the three in the living room before pushing Harry towards the floo, his heart skipping as he feels the firm, warm muscles under his fingertips.

“Um... Actually we need to walk.” Harry glances at Ginny and Hermione, frowning slightly. They raise their glasses to him and he looks at Draco, clearly completely confused.

“Ok...” Draco shoves him towards the front door. He opens it, letting Harry leave before turning back to shout through to his living room, “do not drink all my wine.” He shuts the door as the three of them screech.

“So that was interesting,” Harry mumbles as they start to walk down the road. Draco cringes, feeling heat rise in his cheeks and neck. 

“Yes. It will not happen again. Our friends are horrible people.” Draco runs his hand through his hair. “So where are you taking me?” He turns to smile at Harry. Harry rolls his eyes before shoving at him with his shoulder.

“I thought we could try something you've not done before,” Harry smirks.

“If you think that I haven't done that before you are sorely mistaken,” Draco raises and eyebrow back. Harry laughs, his whole body shaking and Draco feels light. He did that. He made Harry laugh.

“Not that I wouldn't love that, I actually thought we could go to a muggle cinema and see a film.” Harry seems so pleased with himself and Draco doesn't have the heart to tell him he has no idea what a cinema is. But he does know what a film is, thank you Dean Thomas, so he guesses it's probably something he'll enjoy. Potentially in the dark.

“I won't ask,” Draco sighs. Harry laughs again and Draco debates holding his hand. No. That could go wrong. He clenches his hands into balls to stop them from reaching out.

“It's a very common muggle thing to do on a first date,” Harry shrugs, “I never had one of those before. All the men I've dated have been wizards... I just... I want to try new things with you.” He looks so nervous that Draco's heart clenches, his throat closing and his mouth going dry.

“I'd like that,” he murmurs. Harry looks at him for a moment and Draco feels his eyes boring into him.

“Good,” Harry says finally, taking Draco's hand and linking their fingers together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading.


	19. In Which Harry Goes To The Pub With Draco Who Is His Boyfriend

Harry watches as Draco finishes writing the report he’s working on. Whatever the case was that he’d being assigned to after the dark artefact case had been boring enough that he didn’t want to talk about it, and him and Terry had spent a lot of time looking into pensieves. Harry thinks about his last case, running through the streets of London as they tried to catch two Neo-Death Eaters. Yeah, so sometimes being the Saviour of the Wizarding World has its perks.

“Harry, either do some work whilst you wait for me, or go to the pub and I’ll meet you there. Do not just stand there and stare at me,” Draco drawls, his eyes never leaving his work, his self-filling quill fluttering as he writes in a neat, elaborate cursive. Behind Harry, Ron chuckles quietly. Harry sighs, his chest tightening, and watches Draco’s graceful movements for a moment more. Turning Draco around in his chair Harry ducks to press a firm kiss to his lips.

Draco stills for a moment before relaxing slightly, responding to the kiss before pressing his long fingers into Harry’s chest and pushing him away, scowling. Harry gives him a grin, his heart pounding in his chest, and his cock twitching in his pants. Draco raises one eyebrow before turning back to his work.

“You’re going to pay for that when he finishes work,” Ron smirks as Harry walks past and Harry feels his stomach twist. He probably is. It was worth it. They walk through the doors into the relative quiet of the hallway. “So it’s going well then?” Ron glances at Harry, smirk still in place and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Yeah… it’s going well. I mean, he was a little pissed about the Prophet, but he’s going to have to get over that,” Harry shrugs and Ron pulls a face, knowing Harry well enough that he knows that Harry is just as annoyed as Draco. They’d been hounded for the past couple of weeks, ever since Harry had taken Draco to dinner on Diagon for their second date.

They get to the Apparation point and Ron claps Harry on the shoulder before spinning on his heel and disappearing. Harry glances down the hall, hoping to see Draco gliding towards him, but knowing that he won’t. A lump of disappointment forms in his throat and he swallows it away before turning and Apparating to the Leaky. 

He steps through the door and the warmth immediately hits him. He weaves through the familiar Friday night crowd until he reaches the table at the back, Ginny already sitting with Dean and two large glasses of wine. Ron stands by the bar and Harry holds two fingers up, knowing that Draco will want a drink as soon as he gets here.

“You look unhappy,” Ginny states as Harry slides into his seat. His eyes open wide as he stares at her, not really sure what to say. She stares at him, her gaze piercing and Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so pleased to see Ron. Until Ron opens his mouth.

“He’s sulking because Malfoy made him come to the pub rather than staring at Malfoy filling out a form.” Ron takes a sip of his whiskey and Harry takes his glass, glaring at Ron. Ron laughs, “What? It’s true!”

“Harry,” Ginny groans, rolling her eyes and turns his glare to her, “I mean… that’s just sickeningly sweet!”

“I would say pathetic, but sickeningly sweet will do I suppose.” A bored voice drifts across their heads and Harry snaps his neck up to see his boyfriend standing behind Ron, Hermione’s hand resting in the crook of his arm.

“Draco…” Hermione smiles at up at him. He smiles back down at her, his face lighting up, his eyes sparkling and Harry can’t breathe, he’s so fucking beautiful. Hermione slides her hand out of his arm and leans forward to kiss Ron. Ginny slides a glass of wine across the table for her and she picks it up, gratefully taking a large sip. “I thought he’d probably still be working, so I went and picked him up on my way over.” She grins at Harry as she settles into a chair. 

Draco moves to sit next to Harry, leaning back in his chair, his long arm resting gracefully across the back of Harry’s. Harry feels warmth settle in his stomach at the slightly possessive gesture. He turns to raise an eyebrow at Draco and Draco looks at him, his face completely blank.

“So you’ll leave work for Hermione but not for me?” He asks and Ginny giggles.

“Yes.” Draco sighs, picking up his whiskey and taking a sip, his throat rippling and for a moment Harry forgets that he’s supposed to be annoyed. He leans back and presses a soft kiss to Draco’s cheek before pulling back and watching as the blush rises in Draco’s perfectly porcelain skin.

“So this weekend I was thinking we should do a couples Quidditch game?” Ginny grins at them all and Harry can feel the excitement spark in Draco. “We can see if Neville and Hannah want to come, and Maybe Luna and Seamus? Or George and Angelina? Or if you know anyone Draco?” 

“Do I have to be there? I was hoping to talk to Andromeda about Teddy’s lunar cycles…” Hermione asks. Ron laughs next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulders. Harry smiles, watching them as they look happy and relaxed. This is what their lives should have. Happiness and relaxation. Long fingers start to rub small circles into his back and he lets himself get lost in the moment.

“Yeah, course you do babe. Or it’ll be Draco and Ginny on a team without any handicap.” Ron winks at Draco and Ginny laughs. As they descend into laughter, chatting amiably about handicaps in Quidditch, Harry leans back and watches them, Draco’s arm tight around his waist. This is it. Sitting in the pub, surrounded by his friends, his boyfriend by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read, loved and appreciated. Thank you for reading!


	20. In Which Draco Finally Gets What He Wants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had to change the rating on this fic for this chapter! Hope you like it

Draco steps out of the cinema and takes a deep breath. The film was good… a little slow in places, but it made Harry laugh and there isn’t much in the world that Draco wouldn’t do to make Harry laugh. He feels a warm hand slide around his waist and looks down to smile at his boyfriend.

The back of his neck tingles at the thought. His boyfriend. Because he has one of those now. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to Harry’s lips, feeling Harry’s stubble against his chin. Harry’s hand tightens on his waist before he turns Draco towards him. Draco feels the heat pool in his groin, his cock twitching as he runs his hand through Harry’s hair, feeling the soft, thick strands. 

He walks backwards, pushing Harry against the wall, taking advantage of the gasp that escapes Harry’s lips by slipping his tongue into Harry’s mouth. Harry’s hand tights on his hips and Draco presses against him, pushing his crotch into Harry’s, grinding together as his cock starts to harden. His tongue slides along Harry’s, tasting mint and popcorn and heat. His hands stroke through Harry’s hair, keeping his head in place as Draco explores Harry’s mouth.

A small moan escapes Draco’s mouth, rumbling from the base of his throat and he feels Harry smile against him.

“Uh…” Harry gasps, “do you… do wanna come back to mine?” Draco nods, his eyes closed and his nose running against Harry’s, sending shivers of desire through him. There’s a sudden twisting in his stomach and the soft thud of him landing in Harry’s bedroom.

“Presumptuous, Potter,” Draco pulls away, grinning madly, his cheeks aching as he looks down at Harry, his lips pink and bee stung, his green eyes shining behind his glasses. He looks sexy as fuck and Draco growls before bending to claim Harry’s mouth, their bodies move together, rocking against each other as they pull and tug at their clothes, shirts and trousers and pants dropping onto the floor in a frenzy until they’re stood in the middles of the room, naked and rutting.

Draco starts to move Harry towards the bed, his hands running over Harry’s skin, feeling the strong lines of muscle, the curve of his arse, the scattering of hair on his chest. Harry’s hands stroke over Draco’s shoulders, running down his arm before he pulls away, taking Draco’s left arm. Draco watches, his heart in his throat as Harry runs his thumb over the mark, still black against Draco’s pale skin.

“You are so much more than this,” Harry mutters and Draco stops breathing. His eyes travel up Harry’s body and he lifts his right hand to Harry’s forehead, brushing away the unruly hair and stroking his fingertips along Harry’s scar. There’s a slight bump and Draco is shocked. He didn’t expect to be able to feel it.

“So are you,” he whispers back. He gazes into Harry’s eyes for a moment, black with want and need, both of them stroking at each other’s scars. And then Harry’s eyes flicker down and Draco winces at the sudden look of horror. He knows the scars look bad, thin and long and very much there. Harry glances up at him, his mouth opening to say something and Draco presses forward, taking his mouth.

Harry tries to pull away and Draco wraps his hand around Harry’s neck, keeping him there.

“Draco…”

“Don’t you dare. You say one thing about them and I’m walking out of here. I don’t need your apologies. I saw how sorry you were then,” Draco breathes into Harry’s mouth and Harry nods, letting go of Draco’s arm to wrap around him, his lean body pressed warm and solid. They move back, Draco pushing Harry down onto the bed, sucking on Harry’s neck, the soft duvet surrounding them. Rolling together, their cocks line up, hard, silky and heavy.

“Please,” Harry whines and Draco’s hands tighten in his hair and on his waist, “I want you in me Draco.” Draco pulls back and Harry summons a tube of lube from his bed side table. Wandless and wordless magic. Draco’s cock twitches at the power, the crackle of magic coming from Harry as he performs wandless magic.

Draco sits back on his heels and Harry lifts his legs up, exposing himself, giving Draco the best fucking view he has ever seen. Draco’s fingers itch to touch, to just perform the spells and thrust into Harry’s wet heat, but the idea of taking it slowly, of seeing Harry come undone under his fingers, of tasting Harry makes him hold back.

He squirts lube on his fingers and slicks them up with his other hand, rubbing it on his hard cock before running his hands along Harry’s legs, stroking Harry’s arse cheeks. He moves to circle Harry’s hole, watching as Harry shudders at the touch, his heart beating hard, his head dizzy. Fuck, Harry looks amazing.

He presses the tip of one finger to Harry, watching as it disappears into him, the dirty sound escaping Harry’s lips almost enough to make him give up teasing and use the spells. But he doesn’t. He’s waited too long for this. He slowly drags the tip out before pushing back in, feeling Harry tight around his finger, going a little deeper. He keeps up the movement, stroking in a little deeper each time until he’s pressed in to his knuckle.

“Fuck, you look so hot Harry,” Draco breathes and Harry lets out a breathy laugh.

“So fuck me harder,” Harry whimpers back, looking at Draco, his lips still red from where he’s been biting them. Pulling his finger out, Draco watches before adding a second and stroking in, slowly moving, as Harry wriggles, trying to push closer. Draco adds a third finger and Harry sighs, his body relaxing around Draco as he moves higher into Harry’s body, his long fingers disappearing into that perfect ring of muscles.

And then Draco crooks his fingers, hitting Harry’s prostate and Harry shouts out, his back arching off the bed. Draco continues to stroke slowly, pulling his fingers out almost entirely before sliding them slowly back in and pressing against Harry’s prostate. His eyes fixed on Harry, Draco stares as Harry writhes on the bed, curling in on himself as he continues to hold his legs open, letting Draco see his fingers disappear.

“Please, fuck, Draco… Please!” Harry growls and Draco grins at him before bending his head, licking at the muscles tight around his fingers, tasting the earthy heat of Harry. Harry cries out as Draco pushes the tip of his tongue into Harry alongside his fingers, stroking and lapping at Harry’s hole. Harry lets go of his legs, grabbing at Draco’s hair, rocking his hips as one hand rubs along his neglected cock.

Draco slowly removes his fingers, the lube mixing with his spit, dripping down Harry’s butt, the sound dirty and slick. Harry cries out and Draco sits up, squirting more lube onto his hand before running it over his cock and lining up against Harry. 

“If you don’t fuck me now you can forget ever doing this again,” Harry groans and Draco laughs, pressing his cock against Harry’s entrance, the head popping past the tight ring of muscle, hot and wet and fucking perfect. Draco closes his eyes for a moment, his fingers digging into the hard muscles of Harry’s thighs. He starts to rock slowly, pressing in deeper, the heat surrounding him, and he reminds himself to breathe. 

“Merlin,” Draco gasps when he’s fully seated, his balls pressed against Harry, his fingers leaving new marks in Harry’s skin.

“Please don’t shout another man’s name when we’re having sex.” Harry grins and Draco rolls his eyes, pulling out before pushing back in. Harry groans, his hands twisting in the duvet as Draco begins to move, each thrust hitting Harry’s prostate. Draco moves one hand down to Harry’s cock, wrapping his long fingers around it and pumping to the same rhythm as his thrusts.

His balls begin to tighten, the pressure building as waves of pleasure run through him. He presses forward, his mouth clashing against Harry’s, all teeth and tongue and spit. Draco thinks that probably should be gross, but his hand is still wrapped around Harry, trapped between their two bodies and they’re rocking together, pushing him closer to the edge, and somehow it’s not.

And then Harry comes, wet and hot between them, his hole fluttering around Draco’s cock, pulling Draco over the edge so he comes into Harry, his hips erratic, his breath mingling with Harry’s. The aftershocks run through him as he holds himself up, trying not to collapse on top of his boyfriend. They lie for a moment, panting into each other, their body slick with sweat and come and lube.

Harry wriggles and Draco slides out of him, suddenly cold. He reaches for his wand and casts a quick cleaning spell over them before pulling back the duvet and wriggling into bed, pulling Harry with him.

They fall asleep in moments, Harry’s back pressed against Draco, Draco’s nose nuzzling in Harry’s hair, twisted together and completely sated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading


	21. In Which Harry Doesn't Understand And Draco Gets Angry

“I don’t understand, Draco.” Harry rubs his eyes under his glasses, knocking them wonky. He looks up at his boyfriend, annoyed and if he thinks about it too much, a little upset. “You’ve met all my family. You bloody work with Ron. You chat with Ginny and Hermione without me even being there. I heard that Molly is making you a jumper for Christmas. Andromeda asks you to babysit Teddy-“

“They’re my family too-“

“Victoire calls you Uncle Draco for fucks sake!” Harry finishes, slamming his hands down on the table.

“It’s different, Potter and you know it,” Draco spits, Harry’s name sounding angry and bitter. Harry fights the urge to roll his eyes, because getting Draco angrier now is going to come back and bite him on the arse. 

“Of course it’s different, you know I know that,” Harry groans, “but it’s been a month now Draco. It’s not like they don’t know, unless they’ve just stopped reading the Prophet.” Harry can’t help the sarcasm seeping into his voice. Even if they didn’t read the Prophet they would have heard about Draco and Harry somehow. He can see Draco grinding his teeth as the blonde stares at him, his grey eyes on fire. 

“Oh they know? So that automatically makes them ok with it?” Draco snaps, “Don’t be so fucking ridiculous. You know nothing about being a pure-blood heir. You…”

“No! I don’t fucking know!” Harry shouts, running his hand through his hair, his hands shaking with anger, hot and uncomfortable. “Explain it to me.” Draco fixes him with a strong glare, his shoulders strong and broad, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I am a disgrace to them. It’s not enough that I’m… the fact that I’m with you. The Boy-Who-Lived. No heir, and now I’ve chosen the wrong fucking side,” Draco sighs, his shoulders slumping. Harry’s mind begins to whir. Since the war he’s only met people who are glad that Voldemort is gone. There can’t be sides… that’s not what he fought for. Harry frowns and shakes his head.

“There are no sides anymore…” Harry whispers and Draco huffs.

“I know you’re not naïve enough to believe that’s true. It’s why we have a job. There will always be sides. Especially for my parents.” Draco runs his hand through his hair, the fringe falling back into his eye and Harry watches as the tension flows through his body.

“They’re your parents. We should go and see them.” Harry keeps his voice gentle but firm. Family is important. He’s a Malfoy for fucks sake.

“We aren’t going to see my parents.” Draco’s voice is cold and harsh and Harry stands to move near to him, wanting to touch him, to make him understand. Draco takes a step back, and Harry flinches. He knows it’s not him, that Draco is upset and angry, but his heart pounds and his stomach turns.

“Draco…” Harry pleads, and Draco glances at him before turning towards the sink, looking out of the window, his back to Harry. Harry moves towards him, slowly touching Draco’s hips and bringing his boyfriend towards him. Draco freezes and Harry presses a soft kiss to his shoulder, wrapping his arms tighter around Draco’s waist.

“I can’t, Harry,” Draco’s voice is so small Harry feels a lump in his throat. He nuzzles into Draco’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin under his shirt and smelling the heat of Draco and the cologne that he knows costs a stupid amount. Draco leans back into him, relaxing slightly.

“They’re your parents, Draco,” Harry murmurs, “they’re your family. They’re important.” Draco sighs and Harry holds onto him, spinning him around. Draco leans his hands against the sink, his body arching backwards and if they weren’t talking about something so serious Harry would take complete advantage of the fact that Draco’s long, pale neck is exposed, begging to have a mark sucked onto it.

“You’re important, Harry.” Draco is firm, “And they won’t be able to see that. So we’re not going to visit them. They don’t want a son who is happy. They want a son who is dutiful. And I won’t be that anymore… not after…” Draco pauses, and Harry can feel his body shaking. Harry leans forward and Draco bends his head to meet Harry’s, their foreheads resting together.

“You don’t even want to try?” Harry murmurs and Draco shakes his head.

“I can’t see him… not without… I still…” Draco’s voice wavers and Harry squeezes him tighter, “I can’t lose you, but I can’t say no to him. So no, I don’t want to try. They won’t try. So they don’t get to know you like I do.” Draco’s breath tickles Harry’s lips and Harry leans forward slightly.

“No one gets to know me like you do,” Harry breathes and he feels Draco’s breath hitch. His lips ghost over the other man’s for a second before he reaches up and claims Draco’s mouth with his own, each lick of their tongue becoming more heated, more filled with promise of the future and of love and acceptance.  
Harry sighs happily. They can talk about Draco’s parents tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read, and loved! Thank you for reading!


	22. In Which Draco Goes To The Weasley's On His Own

“Hello Molly,” Draco says, stepping into the kitchen at the Burrow, "is there anything I can do to help?" The woman in front of him turns around, her mouth stretching into a wide smile, and holds her arms out. Draco's heart skips for a moment before he walks forward and folds himself into a hug, warmth blossoming in his stomach.

“No dear, I think we're all fine,” she releases him and steps back to her cooking, “where's Harry?” She asks over her shoulder and a tingle runs through Draco. Because he's here. In a Weasley house. All on his own. Feeling completely and utterly at home. When the fuck did that happen?

“He's coming later with We... Uh, Ron,” he picks up a book from the side. 'Advanced Arithmancy in the lunar cycle of Werewolves'. Hermione's book then. “They have a new lead on their latest case and Harry wanted to get to them before the Neo-Death Eaters.” Molly hums from where she's directing her wand towards a large pile of vegetables before covering a large chicken with something Draco recognises, but doesn't know the name of. She turns to see Draco looking at it, obviously curiously.

“Foil,” she waves it at Draco, “muggle invention. Harry taught me about it. Makes the chicken lovely and juicy.” Draco nods, not sure what to say, but not sure he wants to leave the room either. 

“Muggles can be clever like that,” Draco breathes. Molly looks at him for a moment before going to a drawer and pulling out placemats.

“You couldn't lay the table for me could you, Draco, dear?” She smiles, handing over the placemats. Draco sighs, his shoulders slumping in relief and he grins at her, taking them out of her hands. She could do that in a second with a flick of her wand. Fuck, Draco could do it in a second with the flick of his wand. But that's not the point. Draco starts lying each mat down, making sure they're neat and straight.

They work in silence for a moment, Molly cutting and stirring and pointing her wand at different pots and Draco laying each placemat on the table with more care than he needs to. When he finishes Molly flicks her wrist and knives and forks fly out of a drawer, hovering next to Draco. He smiles and takes them, laying them out.

“It's not that I don't... I care about him so much,” Draco whispers, not sure that Molly can hear him, and not entirely sure he wants her to. “I just can't see them, not when I know what they'll say.”

“What will they say?” Molly hums, not turning to look at Draco and Draco feels a sense of relief wash over him. It seems easier to talk without someone looking at him. Draco takes a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“They’ll tell me that he isn’t… that I shouldn’t…” he coughs as tears sting the back of his eyes, “They’ll tell me that I need to leave him. That I’m not fulfilling my duties as the Malfoy heir. That I need to go back.” Draco’s hands shake as he places cutlery down, the knives and forks clacking together. Molly puts her wand down and turns around, her eyes warm and Draco takes another shuddery breath.

“What would happen if they said that?” Molly’s voice is soft and Draco coughs. Because Malfoy’s don’t fucking cry. He shrugs and drops the cutlery on the table, wrapping his long fingers around the backs of the chairs and leaning forwards, his hair flopping over his eyes.

“I…” Draco’s voice sounds too small and he feels sick, “I don’t think I can…” He feels a warm hand on his back, rubbing small circles, and looks over his shoulders at her, “I can’t say no to him. Harry just… he doesn’t get it!” Draco groans, standing up and shoving the back of the chair. Molly’s hand stays on his back.

“What doesn’t he get it?” Her voice is stronger. Draco runs his hand through his hair.

“He doesn’t understand pureblood families and traditions and… and expectations. And I’ve tried explaining it, but he can’t see how I could just go along with what my father wants. To be honest I can’t really see how I could either. I just… I stand in front of him and I just can’t say no!” Draco’s heart beats fast and he clenches his fingers.

“Well… of course not sweetheart,” Molly shouts, turning Draco around roughly by his shoulders, “you’ve had years of saying yes to that man, to doing exactly what he wanted because that’s how old pureblood families work!”

“Yours doesn’t,” Draco grumbles and Molly slaps him lightly on the arm.

“No… no it doesn’t,” Molly’s eyes pierce into him, “And yours doesn’t have to… you can change that.” Draco nods, dread washing through him. Because even though Molly Weasley, Gryffindor breeder extraordinaire, says that he could, Draco knows. He knows he can’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading.


	23. In Which Harry Meets Some Very Important People

“Don’t worry…” Harry takes Draco’s hand and gives it a small squeeze. Draco looks at him a withering look, but doesn’t take his hand away. Harry smiles and stares up at the luxurious restaurant in front of them, not looking particularly out of place on the riverfront, but with enough of a Glamour that passing muggles just think it’s an old townhouse. Of course the Slytherin royals would want to meet here. Harry casts a quick thought to the cosy Leaky and then pushes it to the side. No point in dwelling.

“I’m not worried, Potter,” Draco all but growls and Harry cringes. He’s annoyed. But still holding Harry’s hand. Harry bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning too widely.

“It’s just your friends,” Harry tries to keep his voice light and Draco’s grip tightens slightly.

“They aren’t my friends. Slytherins don’t have friends. They are my housemates.” Draco’s voice is clipped and too strong. He doesn’t need to add ‘and we’re only here to stop you asking about my parents’. That’s been made clear enough.

“Zabini is your friend,” Harry whispers and Draco leans against him slightly, the closest to agreeing with Harry that he’s going to get today.

“Let’s go,” Draco drops Harry’s hand and steps forward decisively. Harry follows, tugging at the robe tight around his neck. Harry’s friends have seen Draco in robes loads of times. He has to wear them for work. But during the evening and weekend Draco wears them more like a coat, taking them off when he can, especially now that it’s summer. Harry suspects it’s something to do with his father.

Two wizards in sharp black robes open the doors for them and Harry smiles at them. They sneer back. Right. Don’t acknowledge the staff. Draco doesn’t hide his scowl, but seems more annoyed at the door wizards than at Harry. He steps closer to Harry, their arms brushing as they walk into the dining room. Draco ignores the maître d' and Harry follows his example.

The room is huge and brightly lit, with large chandeliers floating around the room, but Harry can’t focus on that because all he can see is four smirking Slytherins. Well, two smirking Slytherins, one confused Slytherin and one Slytherin that looks so bored it’s disdainful. Draco stalks up to them and Harry takes a deep breath, calming his nerves, and reminds himself that he faced Voldemort. He can face these four. Probably.

Two waiters pull chairs out for them and Harry bites back the 'thank you’. He watches as Draco folds himself elegantly into the chair and tries to do the same. Draco scowls at him for a moment before turning back to the others

“Blaise, Theo, Gregory…” Draco nods at the three men and they nod back, poised and cold and Harry thinks about Ron giving him a hug and a beer. He reminds himself to thank Ron when he sees him. “Pansy.” Draco’s voice sounds slightly different when he greets Parkinson and Harry’s Auror training makes his ears prick and his back straighten. So Parkinson is the one he needs to watch out for.

“So it’s true then,” Parkinson smirks, her eyes hard and cruel and Harry can’t imagine how Draco, his Draco who laughs at Ron and dances with Ginny and debates with Hermione, can possibly be friends with her. “Gay and with the Saviour. How… wonderful.” She raises one eyebrow and Harry feels Draco’s hand on his arm, stopping him from moving.

“If you’re going to behave like this Pansy, we will leave,” Draco’s voice is clipped and low and Harry doesn’t know whether he should be terrified or turned on. His cock jumps a little and he settles for turned on.

“If you’re going to behave like this then maybe I will,” she sneers and Harry watches as Draco’s eyes flare.

“Stop it,” Zabini drawls, the only person Harry has ever met who can sound more bored than Draco. Parkinson’s head whips around to him and he doesn’t look at her, instead inspecting his nails, his elbow leant casually on the back of his chair.

“How can you sit there and just let this… for fucks sake Blaise…” Parkinson hisses and Zabini looks up at her, one eyebrow raised before turning to look at Harry, his serious eyes scanning over Harry’s body appraisingly.

“I think Draco has done very well for himself…” Zabini grins and Harry feels the blush rise in his cheeks, remembering the last time he’d seen Zabini and the similar look he’d given him. Hermione had said he’d made a good impression. Draco squeezes his arm and Harry relaxes slightly. He smiles back at Zabini, who nods and picks up the wine list, ignoring the way Parkinson is glaring at him. She stands, casting a quick scowl at Draco and snarling at Harry before flouncing out of the room. Suddenly there’s a barking laugh from next to Harry. 

“Well, that went better than expected…” Nott jokes, signalling for the waiter to come over. The wizard moves swiftly towards them and Nott looks way too happy, “We’ll have a bottle of champagne with five glasses.”

“Champagne, Theo?” Draco’s voice seems lighter, but his hand doesn’t leave Harry.

“It’ll piss Pansy off if she finds out we had champagne,” Zabini sighs, “and she will. Draco, we’ll have the Malbec.” He closes the list, also the only person Harry has ever met who can order wine for Draco, and goes back to staring at Harry. Harry flushes.

“And I’ll have a whiskey. Potter,” Nott’s gaze is suddenly on Harry and Harry jumps. Fucking Auror reflexes. “Whiskey?” Nott prompts and Harry nods, his mind whirring, his skin too warm and too itchy under the fancy dress robes. If they ever need interrogators in the ministry this group of Slytherins would do perfectly.

“Don’t worry about Pansy,” Goyle leans over and tries to whisper to Harry, “she’s just upset because she wants marry Draco.” Nott laughs again and Goyle looks pleased with himself and Harry relents and undoes the top button, because why the fuck not. Goyle looks at him with wide eyes before glancing at Draco and undoing his top button as well. Draco raises an eyebrow and moves his hand, but doesn’t say anything. Harry thinks he must have made a good impression because else Draco would be scowling at him.

Harry counts it as a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read, and loved! Thank you for reading.


	24. In Which Draco Is Accosted In His Own Home And Harry Annoys Hermione

Draco frowns as his floo starts to ring. Harry is out for the evening doing fuck knows what, Blaise is on a date, Theo and Greg don’t like doing anything unplanned, and Pansy isn’t speaking to him. Draco was sort of looking forward to having the evening to himself. To sit and read and not think about what his boyfriend could be doing. He wasn’t really expecting anyone to come and see him.

“Step aside, we’re coming through,” Weasley’s voice sounds through his living room when he answers. Draco steps back, crossing his arms over his chest and ignoring the excited thump of his heart. A second later the fire blazes green and Weasley and Hermione walk into the room.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Draco tries to sneer, raising one eyebrow. Hermione walks towards him and reaches up to press a soft kiss to his cheek and Weasley laughs, throwing himself onto Draco’s armchair. Hermione glances at her boyfriend before rolling her eyes at Draco and looking him up and down, clearly judging his outfit. Draco feels his chest tighten a little. He’s wearing one of Harry’s Weasley jumpers and a pair of jeans that are probably a little tight.

“We’re taking you out,” Hermione says finally, “You can go like that if you want, but I suggest changing…” She grins at him and Draco huffs. She continues to stare at him and he glances at Weasley, searching for some help against the force of Hermione Granger.

“Ha! Don’t look at me mate! I wanted to bring over a case of beer and play chess…” Weasley shrugs and Draco is surprised to find he’s slightly disappointed that that isn’t what is happening. Because Weasley is his friend now, he guesses. And that’s what friends do. Also, because Weasley is the only person he knows who he can get a decent game of chess out of.

“Well tough! You can do that any night. Tonight is special because I’m not swamped with work and Harry isn’t here to distract me,” Hermione sings, her voice leaving no room for argument. Draco groans and walks into his room to get changed.

When he emerges five minutes later Weasley lets out a long whistle and Draco feels the heat of a blush rise up his neck. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey trousers and a black shirt that hugs his chest. He’s left his top button undone, because it’s only Hermione and Weasley so they won’t judge him, and has finished it off with his favourite pair of black Italian shoes.

“Best not let Harry know you wore that without him being around to see it mate!” Weasley shouts and Hermione slaps him over the head.

“You look gorgeous Draco,” she smiles, handing him his muggle coat that she’s got from the hallway.

“Where are we going?” Draco asks as he slips on his coat and follows them out of the living room. Hermione picks up his keys and wallet with muggle money in and slides it into her handbag, looking after Draco the way she looks after Harry and Weasley. According to Harry, she’d once got drunk and told them that if she’d been there to look after Draco like she had them he wouldn’t have got the mark. He doesn’t think he agrees, but it’s a nice thought. He grins at her and she looks puzzled as the three of them leave the flat.

“We’re going for dinner, but this one wants to try this place Dean told her about and it means muggle clothes, my man.” Weasley slings his arm around Hermione’s shoulders and Draco feels a pang of jealousy. Because his boyfriend is off doing fuck knows what, instead of spending an evening with the three of them. He pulls his coat tighter around him, walking slightly slower to match Weasley’s lollop and Hermione’s tiny steps. 

“You don’t want to wait for Harry to go somewhere new?” Draco asks, watching them carefully. Weasley’s hand tightens on Hermione’s shoulders and a soft blush rises in her cheeks. Draco feels the tingle in the back of his neck and keeps his eyes on them.

“No. Harry doesn’t deserve new places to eat,” Hermione’s voice is firm and Draco is struck suddenly by how much he wants to comfort her. Weasley sighs, rubbing her arm before looking at Draco and giving him a smile.

“Hermione’s annoyed because Harry makes decisions to do things when Hermione has specifically told him that he shouldn’t.” Weasley’s smile gets wider and Hermione huffs. Draco’s heart jumps into his throat. He raises and eyebrow at Weasley and Weasley shakes his head. “Just work stuff.” Hermione growls and Draco frowns. Weasley is lying to him. Weasley is lying to protect Harry and Hermione is pissed about it.

Because Hermione is his friend. The thought send a chill through him.

“Weasley…” Draco says and Weasley stops. Hermione glances at him nervously and Weasley nods. Draco’s head feel too light. Something is wrong… something is very wrong.

“Go get us a table babe,” he smiles at her and she glances at Draco and gives his hand a small squeeze before turning and walking briskly down the road. Weasley turns back to Draco and crosses his arms.

“What’s going on?” Draco asks, panic running through him. Weasley’s eyes flicker around Draco’s face.

“Ok, firstly, I need you to not get pissed off when I tell you,” Weasley’s voice is strong, “and, secondly, you have to remember that both me and Hermione told Harry that this was a very bad idea, but Harry… family means a lot to Harry. More than it does to most people.” Draco nods and runs his hand through his hair, the lock at the front falling back into his eye.

“Ok…” Draco’s through is dry. This is it. Draco doesn’t have a good family… Harry doesn’t want him.

“Harry has gone to see your parents. He’s gone to try to convince them to be a part of your lives… together. As a couple.” Weasley’s eyebrows raise and Draco takes a deep shuddery breath and nods. Harry has gone to his parents. Harry’s trying to bring them together. Harry…

“He shouldn’t…” Draco breathes and Weasley nods, clapping Draco on the shoulder and turning him down the road.

“Yeah, well… that’s Harry.” Weasley laughs, slinging his arm around Draco’s shoulders and walking towards the restaurant, the weight of his arm making Draco’s heart ache. Because this is Harry’s family, and he’s part of it. Maybe Harry’s right. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read, and loved! Thank you for reading.


	25. In Which Harry Visits The Malfoys And Draco Might Be Right

Harry looks around the large room. Well this is terrifying. The last time he was here… he still remembers Hermione’s screams sometimes. When she has nightmares and he can hear it from his room. On nights like those he wonders into Ron and Hermione’s room and together they sit and cradle her, reminding her that they’re all safe. That they’ll never let anyone hurt her ever again.

Harry shakes the thought out of his mind. He needs to try to forget that. Not that he’ll ever be bringing her to Malfoy Manor. But if he ever has to come back, he doesn’t want to have to be reminded of the war. Draco once told him that after the war, when his father was waiting for his trial, that Draco had gone and destroyed the dungeons. No one has been down there since.

The large wooden door swings open and a small house elf walks in, looking nervous. Harry smiles at her and he thinks she blushes.

“Master and Mistress will see you now,” she squeaks and Harry nods, following the house elf out of the room. They walk in silence for a moment, and Harry looks around, his Auror senses heightened. The corridor is long, with lush carpet underfoot. A hundred paintings of bored and angry looking blondes glare down at Harry as he moves, almost as if they know he’s been fucking their last heir. Repeatedly. 

Harry frowns to himself and focuses on thinking through what he’s going to say when he’s in front of the Malfoys. He steps into another room, light and full of large pieces of furniture, and the look he gets from Lucius Malfoy makes all thought fly from his head. No one offers Harry a seat, and Harry isn’t sure he would have taken one anyway. It’s easier to run away if you’re already standing.

“Mr Potter,” Lucius snarls and Harry takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he’s doing this for Draco. Because he cares about Draco. A lot. In a way that could be called love. Maybe.

“Mr Malfoy,” Harry replies, keeping his voice strong and even, “Mrs Malfoy.” He turns and smiles at Narcissa. She stays seated, not smiling, her eyes piercing and angry and Harry recognises the look immediately from the hundreds of times that Draco has been significantly fucked off. Fuck. “I don’t suppose I have to tell you why I’m here,” Harry moves closer, reminding himself to keep his back straight, his hands clasped together to stop them from running through his hair. He took a long time making it flat.

“No,” Lucius bites and Harry nods.

“What do you want from Draco, Mr Potter?” Narcissa’s voice is strained and Harry freezes. He looks at her, and for a moment thinks he’s sees something like regret. Right, she lied to Voldemort for her son. Harry guesses the lack of communication is something imposed by Lucius. Wanker.

“I don’t want anything from him, Mrs Malfoy. I just want him,” Harry breathes and he sees Lucius bristle, “I just want to be with him. No hidden agenda.” Harry doesn’t know what else he can say. Narcissa seems to be eyeing him warily, but there isn’t anger in her eyes anymore, and Harry breathes a small sigh of relief. 

“You may not want anything from Draco, but I can guarantee he wants something from you,” Lucius cuts in and Harry turns back to the older man. He looks tired, but still proud and arrogant and all the things Draco is without the softness and laughter. 

“Yeah?” Harry asks, tilting his head slightly to the side. It’s a technique he learnt from Hermione, meant to make him look less threatening, as if he’s confused by the statement, but isn’t unintelligent enough to not be able to figure it out. Her and her damn muggle psychology books.

“Why else would my son disobey his father, ruin our chance of redemption and spurn his pure-blood duties?” Lucius moves closer and Harry forces himself not to move, “Yes… it all makes sense now. My son isn’t homosexual. He just wants something from the great Saviour of the Wizarding World. Perhaps he thinks that it will improve his standing in society to be seen as the Chosen One’s lover.” Harry bites the inside of his cheek, tasting the bitter tang of blood and takes a deep breath.

“I assure you, Mr Malfoy, your son and me are in a real relationship, where all we get from it is being with each other. We care about each other, we enjoy each other’s company. We make each other happy.” Harry bites his tongue to stop himself from blurting out anything about their sex life. No one’s parents need to hear that.

“Well I suggest you stop,” Lucius stands so close to Harry that he can see the flecks of gold in Lucius’ eyes, just like Draco’s but colder, “because my son will eventually realise where his loyalties lie, and he will return to fulfil his duties. We will have an heir, and not one raised by two…” Lucius snarls before collecting himself, his face washing over into a cool mask and Harry forces himself to breathe, his head dizzy, his stomach churning in anger. “Good day Mr Potter. I suggest that you enjoy whatever you think is there until Draco takes up his responsibilities.”

Harry nods, glancing at Narcissa before forcing himself to walk slowly out of the room. Draco was right. Not that Harry is going to tell him that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thank you all so much for reading!


	26. In Which Draco Has No Choice Until Ron Makes A Suggestion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I apologise now for the sickeningly sweet fluff that the next few chapters (like... 4) consist of. It is my apology for what is going to happen after those chapters...

Draco looks down at the chess board in front of him. Weasley moves his knight and Draco feels a bubble of excitement in his chest. He’s going to win. He smirks at Weasley and moves his pawn to be taken by Weasley’s queen. Weasley frowns at the board, glancing at Draco before studying it again.

“For fucks sake, just make your move Ron!” Harry groans after a minute’s silence. Draco turns to his boyfriend and rolls his eyes before looking back to watch Weasley glower at the board. They’re sat in the living room at Grimmauld place, and Draco is starting to worry. He hasn’t been home in almost a week, Kreacher’s been getting him clean clothes, and he knows it’s probably time for him to leave. He needs to start packing.

“Harry…” Hermione walks into the room and Draco watches as Harry grins at her, his face lighting up, his green eyes sparkling behind his glasses. He’s so fucking gorgeous. “I was wondering if you and Draco wouldn’t mind helping with the bedroom on the third floor this weekend… I was thinking we should turn it into a study.” Hermione sits down next to Harry, her feet curled under her and Harry wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Draco feels warmth spread through him as he watches them. He’s part of this.

“Sure… whatever you want,” Harry smiles down at her and Draco looks to see that Weasley has made his move. Dammit, he’s not moved his queen. Draco frowns and runs his fingers through his hair, studying the board.

“Draco? Is that ok?” Hermione asks him and he looks up for a moment. Her brown eyes are pleading and he feels a pang of sorrow.

“I can’t this weekend… I have to pack.” He mumbles before turning back to the board. If he moves his bishop Weasley will probably take it with his rook and that’ll leave Weasley’s queen open. He makes the move and then glances up to see Weasley frowning.

“What are you packing for?” Harry’s voice is small and Draco stares at Harry for a moment, not entirely sure what he’s talking about.

“Sorry?” Draco asks, watching Weasley contemplate his move whilst talking to Harry. He feels a small sense of triumph that he seems to have Weasley stumped.

“I said… what are you packing for?” Harry’s voice is louder this time and Draco frowns at him, his mind whirring. Harry knew that his landlord had sold the flat and Draco had to move out. Draco’s pretty sure he’d talked to Harry about how he had to move to the Manor for a few weeks before he could find a new place.

“Mr Tobias sold the flat. I’m moving back to the Manor until I can find somewhere else…” Draco turns so that he’s facing Harry and Hermione, “I told you this before.”

“No you didn’t!” Harry exclaims, sitting up slightly. Hermione shuffles so that she isn’t leaning on him and Draco shakes his head.

“No. I definitely did,” Draco’s voice is firm, the one he uses in interrogation, the one that his father taught him when he was old enough to speak, “perhaps you weren’t listening…” Draco watches as Harry’s eyes light up, anger and exhilaration clear on his face. Perhaps if Weasley and Hermione weren’t here… Although maybe it’s a good idea that they are.

“So, what? I don’t get a say in this?” Harry crosses his arms over his broad chest, and Draco wants to run his hands along them, his fingers running over the muscles on Harry’s arm until they reach his neck. Where he will then strangle Harry.

“I don’t have any say in this! My flat is no longer available for me to stay in. I have nowhere else to go until I can find somewhere else.” Draco mimics Harry’s movement, keeping his voice even and his face placid. He doesn’t know why Harry insists on picking arguments when it’s obvious that Draco would rather poke his eyes out with a stick than return back to the Manor. He hasn’t told his parents he’d be returning yet. He was sort of hoping that if he stayed in his wing and found somewhere quickly that they wouldn’t even notice.

“So if I want to see you I have to go to the Manor? Oh, yeah… that’s going to go down great,” Harry snaps and Draco watches as Hermione frowns at him, placing her hand on his arm.

“You think I want this? You think I want to go back and live with a man I haven’t spoken to in… months?” Draco’s voice gets high and he itches to stand up, but he keeps his body relaxed, leant against the back of the chair. He has to look like he’s the one in control of the conversation. Then chances are he will be. “I have no other options!”

“There are always other options!” Harry shouts back and Draco growls, clenching his fists.

“Come on then, Potter, what are they?” Draco takes a deep breath and glares at his boyfriend, the fucking twat. Harry’s mouth opens and closes, no words coming out.

“You could move in here.” A voice comes from beside Draco and he turns to see Weasley still studying the board, “you’re here all the time anyway. Might as well just move in, then you can do it this weekend and you don’t have to go back to your parents.” He moves his bishop and Draco is so stunned he can’t remember what his next move was going to be.

“Sorry… uh…” Draco says and Harry glances at him before looking at Weasley.

“What?” Weasley asks, “What did I say?”

“You really want Draco to come and live here?” Harry’s voice sound tentative and he’s doing the tilting his head to the side to appear less threatening thing. Like he can interrogate Ron Weasley.

“Sure.” Weasley shrugs before pointing at the game. Draco looks between him and Harry. Harry catches his eye and his heart stops. Is this too fast? Is he being ridiculous?  
Definitely.

“Is that… uh… would you like to move in here Draco?” Harry stutters and Draco thinks about it for a moment. It’s a beautiful house, by birth right his, and he… well, he has very strong feelings for Harry. It makes sense. He could have a new place and Harry all to himself. He grins at the thought and looks into those forest green eyes.

“I would love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read, and loved! Thank you so much for reading!


	27. In Which Harry And Draco Have Their First Really Stupid Argument

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pure fluff...
> 
> I'm sorry. For this and what is to come...

Harry glares at Draco, his arms crossed over his chest, anger bubbling in his stomach. Ok, maybe anger is a bit strong. Very strong annoyance. Draco stares at him, his eyes on fire, the grey almost rippling. If Harry wasn’t very annoyed he’d be very turned on.

“I don’t know what you did before I moved in Potter,” Draco spits, Harry’s name flying from his lips and Harry tries to remember he’s pissed off as a pulse runs through him. He moves towards Draco, not really able to control his feet, and looks up at his boyfriend, feeling the heat radiate from him.

“I did just fine! No one ever complained before!” Harry growls, his lip curling slightly, his fingers tingling with the adrenalin running through him. Draco scoffs and moves away.

“You never lived with a partner before,” Draco drawls, “And I find it hard to believe Hermione hasn’t mentioned it at least once.” He looks so right that Harry wants to hit him. And not with magic. Harry opens his mouth to say something but he can’t really think of what to say. Hermione does ask him to do the dishes. Frequently. And he usually gets around to it. Usually.

Just apparently not on crazy Draco time. 

“If I’m asked nicely then I’ll do it,” Harry shouts and Draco rolls his eyes.

“I shouldn’t have to ask! They’re your bloody dishes!” Draco shouts back, his hair falling into his eye and Harry’s fingers twitch. Draco moves to start folding the pile of clean clothes that Harry had dumped on their bed, his wand discarded and Harry swallows. Ok, so Draco is really pissed off. Harry moves to the other side of the bed and picks up a pair of Draco’s trousers. They’re heavy and crisp and Harry knows that they cost more than almost everything in Harry’s wardrobe.

“I will do them…” Harry whispers after a moment and Draco scoffs.

“Of course you will,” he sneers, grabbing a t-shirt. Harry sighs and looks up at the blonde. His shoulders are stiff, his fingers shaking slightly and Harry feels his chest tighten. He starts to sidle around the bed.

“I will. Just because I don’t do them straight away…” Harry trails off and he sees Draco’s jaw clench. Shit. He holds his breath and moves closer again, reaching his hand out to stroke against Draco’s. The other man freezes, but doesn’t pull away. Harry releases his breath and pulls Draco’s hand into his, linking their fingers together. Draco glances at him, his eyes shining and Harry’s stomach swoops.

“It doesn’t matter if you’ll do them eventually,” Draco’s voice is harsh but his thumb starts to rub over the back of Harry’s hand, “the fact that you haven’t done them even though I’ve asked…”

“But why does it bother you so much?” Harry pulls Draco to him, his mind whirring, his heart pounding, the normal excitement and adrenalin that comes from arguing with Draco tinged with fear. This is a real argument. About something really stupid. Draco looks at Harry, his eyes piercing into him, forcing Harry to stand still. He takes a deep breath and leans forward, wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders.

“Because I lived in the Manor where we had house-elves and then I lived by myself where I was in control,” Draco’s tone is cautious, but not angry anymore and Harry leans into him, “I’m not… used to sharing my space. And I like things to be neat and…” he pauses and Harry nods. He doesn’t really need Draco to tell him more.

“Ok… come downstairs with me whilst I wash the bloody dishes,” Harry grins into Draco’s chest and he feels Draco chuckle. Harry slides out of his embrace and presses a soft kiss to Draco’s lips before leaving their room and walking down the stairs, Draco following quietly.

They walk into the kitchen and find Ron sitting at the kitchen table, the Prophet open in front of him, a bottle of butterbeer in his hand. Draco folds himself into the chair next to Ron and Harry walks to the sink. He looks in and frowns. There are no dishes. He glances around the room and sees them piled in the cupboards.

“What is it?” Draco asks and Harry frowns at him. 

“The… uh…” Harry points at the sink and Draco’s elegant features crease.

“Oh. The dishes?” Ron asks, finally lifting his head. Draco and Harry stare at him, Harry’s mouth hanging open. “Yeah, I noticed that Harry hadn’t done them so I thought I’d do them before Hermione nagged. You know what she can be like,” Ron rolls his eyes affectionately and goes back to the paper, completely ignoring the two men staring at him in shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thank you all so much for reading


	28. In Which Draco And Harry Have A Night Alone And Everything Is Good For One Perfect Minute

Harry flops down on the sofa, a large bowl of cereal in his hand. Draco looks at him and frowns. He'll get milk everywhere. Harry shuffles in his place and milk sloshes over the sides of the bowl and splatters on the sofa. Draco holds back the growl in his throat and waves his wand at it, cleaning it up. Thank fuck they didn't move his furniture into the living room.

“Thanks!” Harry grins at him between mouthfuls and Draco's irritation dissipates. There's no way he can be annoyed with Harry when he's smiling like that. Draco smiles back and takes a wheetos out of the bowl, popping it into his mouth.

“What are we watching?” Draco turns and curls up next to Harry. His stomach twists slightly as he feels the hard muscle of Harry's arm pressed against him, rippling as he moves his spoon between his mouth and the bowl.

“The Court Jester,” Harry mumbles, his spoon clicking against china as he finishes his food. He leans forward, placing the bowl on the table, his trousers stretched deliciously across his arse, before settling back. Draco moves closer, needing to feel the heat of Harry against him.

“Weasley and Hermione go out for one evening and you want to watch The Court Jester? We could literally watch anything...” Draco smiles at his boyfriend. His perfect, ridiculous boyfriend. Harry shrugs and moves his arm so that Draco can slide closer to his side.

The film starts and Draco sinks further into the warmth surrounding him, his heart fluttering, completely happy. Harry's thumb starts stroking circles on Draco's skin through his tshirt and Draco presses closer, tingles of pleasure running through him.

“What did you have in mind?” Harry mutters into his hair a while later. Draco looks up at him and frowns, completely confused.

“For what?” Draco asks, sitting up to get a better look at Harry. Harry's eyes are dark and there's a wicked grin on his lips, his teeth strong and white as he bites the bottom one. Draco raises and eyebrow at him before moving to lean back against the other sofa arm.

“For this evening…” Harry leans forward and Draco’s cock twitches at the sight of Harry’s pink tongue running along his lips, “instead of watching The Court Jester” Draco raises one eyebrow and Harry moves, shifting closer to him. Draco’s heart jumps at the glint in Harry’s eye.

Harry reaches out to Draco and tugs at the buttons of Draco's shirt and Draco can't help but grin at him. Now this is more like it. And empty house should not just be used for watching a film. He undoes the buttons and flings it on the floor. Harry's eyes shine as he runs his thumbs over Draco's nipples, bringing them to hard nubs in seconds.

Harry smirks and moves to lie across Draco, soft cotton rubbing against his skin, and Draco's hands move to Harry's hips. His fingers lightly brush against the small strip of skin between Harry's trousers and tshirt and Harry bites his lip, his eyes closing. Draco watches him for a moment, taking deep breaths, trying to get some sort of oxygen to his brain. Harry's eyes finally open, dark and full of lust, and he presses forward taking Draco's mouth with his.

Harry's lips are soft against Draco's, warm and full and fucking perfect. Draco opens his mouth, Harry opening with him, and slips his tongue into Harry's mouth. He runs his tongue along Harry’s, tasting cereal and heat, and Harry lets out a little moan. Draco's shifts slightly and moves his hands to card through Harry's hair, tugging him closer.  
Harry's hands move to pull at Draco's trousers and Draco lifts his hips, his cock aching in his pants, as Harry yanks them off. His heart pounds and his fingers are numb and he needs Harry. Harry's mouth moves to the nerve at the base of Draco's neck and a spasm of pleasure runs through him. 

Harry mouth moves down, his tongue running along Draco's skin and Draco feels a deep moan rumble from the back of his throat, his fingers tightening in Harry's hair. He arches his back as Harry's tongue runs over one of his nipples, his cock pressing painfully against Harry. Harry's fingers hook over Draco's pants and he tugs them down as his nose runs through the hair at Draco's crotch. Draco tries to breath, to get some blood to his head but it seems to all be somewhere else and then Harry mouth is on him, hot and wet and perfect and Draco forgets needing to breathe.

Draco watches Harry’s head bob up and down, his lips wrapped around Draco’s cock, plump and red and perfect. Draco’s balls start to tighten as Harry moves his fingers along Draco’s crack, slick and covered in lube that he’s obviously conjured wordlessly and windlessly. Fuck… Draco’s heart jumps at the thought.

Harry’s fingers runs over the ring of muscles and Draco can’t think, can’t feel anything other than the suction of Harry’s mouth, the soft probe around his hole, the silky strands of Harry’s hair running through his fingers. He comes with a shout, slipping down Harry’s throat, pleasure running through him, white light exploding behind his eyes.

“Harry…” Draco’s voice is raspy and he coughs as Harry kisses up his body, “That was amazing.” Harry grins at him and leans to lie against Draco’s chest. Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders, rubbing his nose into his hair. Harry shifts slightly and Draco can feel his bulge pressed against his leg. “Do you want me to help you with that?”

“Mmm…” Harry mumbles into Draco’s chest, “Later.” Draco’s arms tighten around Harry and he turns to stare at the screen, Danny Kaye pulling stupid faces at them. After a moment Harry starts to shift and Draco lets go slightly, expecting Harry to pull away. But he doesn’t. He nuzzles into Draco’s chest, his hands running over Draco’s sides, before settling back down, curled up between Draco’s legs in an uncharacteristically cute way. “Draco…” he whispers and Draco’s heart aches.

“Yes, Harry?” Draco mumbles back.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading you wonderful people!


	29. In Which Harry Is Happy For His Best Friends

Harry wakes up with a stiff neck and an aching back. He stretches against Draco, feeling the hard lines of him under his chest, and tugs the blanket back over his feet. His hands starts to wander over the thick muscled legs that he’s lying between, his fingers getting higher with each stroke, his cock hardening as he feels hot, smooth skin. Draco shifts underneath him and Harry nuzzles his nose into Draco’s chest, moving closer to his nipple. Draco’s arms tighten around him as Harry breathes against one nub. He sticks his tongue out, licking at it, feeling it harden and Draco’s breath hitch.

“Morning Harry,” Draco whispers and Harry mumbles into his chest, pressing open mouthed kisses to his skin. Draco moves under him, his hip pressing into Harry’s and Harry feels a shock of pleasure run through him as he feels Draco’s cock hard against him. Harry groans and latches his mouth onto a nipple, sucking lightly and a deep sound rumbles from Draco’s throat. Harry’s mouth moves up, mouthing at the long column of pale skin, sucking red marks, lapping over the purple bruises.

Harry starts to rock against Draco, lining their cocks up so that they slide against each other, the friction of skin against skin and the heat and weight of Draco building the pressure in his groin. Draco’s hands run along Harry’s side, his nimble fingers sending sparks through Harry before wrapping around his shoulders, holding Harry close. Harry gasps against Draco’s skin, his fingers digging into Draco’s hips. 

“Fuck… Draco…” Harry pants as his balls tighten, pleasure rushing through him as his release spills between them. He feels Draco’s hips jerking erratically before stilling, Draco’s arms tightening around his shoulders as he comes. They lie for a moment, clinging to each other before Draco lets go and reaches across to grab his wand. He casts a quick cleaning spell over them both, and freshens their breath.

“I suggest we don’t tell Weasley and Hermione that we did that on the sofa,” Draco mumbles into Harry’s hair and Harry leans up to look around the room. Their clothes are abandoned on the floor, bottles of butterbeer and plates lying on the coffee table, the TV flashing the DVD menu for The Court Jester. Right, they fell asleep on the sofa. No wonder his neck feels stiff. Harry looks back at Draco, his grey eyes shining, and grins at him.

“If you think they haven’t shagged on this sofa you aren’t as smart as I thought you were…” Harry laughs and Draco pinches him lightly on the bum. Harry squeaks and moves to take Draco’s mouth with his when there’s a knock on the living room door.

“Is Malfoy’s arse out? Because it’s too early to see that,” Ron’s voice comes from the other side of the door and Harry chuckles loudly, shifting to sit up and find his t-shirt and pants.

“Out of curiosity Weasley,” Draco drawls whilst slipping on his pants and shirt, leaving it hanging open, “what time of day is acceptable for you to be looking at my arse?” Harry hears a snicker from the hallway and a moment later Ron’s head pops around the door. 

“Ten at night when I’ve had enough to drink,” Ron beams and Draco laughs, picking up his chinos and slipping them on. Harry watches, his heart swelling, his head dizzy as Ron and Draco grin at each other. “So… how was last night?” Ron collapses onto an armchair, wiggling his eyebrows at them. Harry can feel the heat of a blush rise in his cheeks and he glances at Draco to see that he’s flushing. 

“It was great,” Harry murmurs before tugging on his jeans and chucking the blanket over the back of the sofa, “how was yours?” Ron’s smile gets wider and Harry watches curiously as Hermione sidles into the room, flopping onto the armchair with Ron

“It was lovely, thank you Harry,” Hermione glances at Ron, her lips twitching and her fingers linking through Ron’s. Harry stills as he watches them together. There’s something different. Harry looks at Draco, frowning slightly and Draco rolls his eyes at him. Harry turns back to Ron and Hermione.

“Do… uh… do anything nice?” Harry stutters, sure that he’s missed something. Fucking Auror senses. He should be able to figure this out.

“Well…” Ron squeezes Hermione’s hand and Harry looks between the two. He can feel Draco’s eyes on him and his mind whirs. There is definitely something he’s missing.

“Oh for fuck sake Harry!” Draco snorts and Harry glares at him, “They got engaged!” Harry’s head whips around to his two best friends and Hermione giggles, holding out her left hand where a diamond sits sparkling. It takes a moment before Harry jumps up, dragging Hermione and Ron off their chair and into a hug.

“Oh my god!” he shouts, holding them tightly, tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. “You’re getting married! You’re… holy fuck!” Harry pulls back and Hermione moves to hug Draco. Harry stands and looks at Ron, his whole body shaking. Ron nods at him and pulls him back in for another hug, Ron’s arms wrapping around Harry as Harry clings to him, deliriously happy and heartbreakingly scared.

“Right,” Ron coughs, rubbing his eyes as he pulls away, “let’s have a drink!” 

“Ron! It’s nine in the morning!” Hermione scolds and Ron laughs walking out of the room and Hermione smiles at them before following him out. Harry sighs and glances at Draco. Draco’s smile is tinged with sadness as he moves closer to Harry, holding out his arm for Harry to fold himself in to.

“You ok?” Draco whispers into Harry’s hair. Harry nods before shrugging and Draco holds him closer.

“Of course! I’m happy for them! It’s just… a big change,” Harry breathes and Draco nuzzles at him.

“I know,” Draco presses a soft kiss to Harry's head and they stand for a moment before Ron and Hermione come back into the room carrying mugs of tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read, and loved! I'm getting pretty good at replying too...
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you like it!


	30. In Which Draco Collects The Set And Makes Molly A Promise

“Charlie’s here!” Ginny shouts as she launches herself at Harry. Draco’s heart jumps a little. The last Weasley. Sort of like collecting a set. Harry wiggles his eyebrows at Draco over Ginny’s shoulders and Draco feels his lips twitch into a smile. Ginny lets go of Harry and wraps her arms around Draco’s waist, pulling him in tight. Draco wraps his arms around her, marvelling like he always does at how close he is to the Weasleys.

“You’ll like Charlie,” Harry grins at him, “He’s the hot one.” Ginny lets go of Draco’s waist and thumps Harry on the shoulder.

“Firstly, gross… that’s my brother. And secondly, we all know I’m the hot one,” she glares at him, her mouth stretched into a wide smile and Draco chuckles, sliding his arm around her shoulder and walking into the house. Draco feels his hand shake slightly and takes a deep breath, schooling his features, running his free hand through his hair. Ginny nudges him with her shoulder and he raises one eyebrow at her, keeping his head high, making her giggle.

They walk through into The Burrow and Draco immediately feels warmer, happier. Ginny gives his side a squeeze before they walk into the kitchen. There’s a short, strong man standing with his back to Draco, his flame read hair wild and his shoulders broad and Draco feels his heart jump. Charlie Weasley turns around and Draco is hit with the brightest smile he has ever seen.

“Charlie!” Harry’s voice booms from behind him and he jumps slightly. Ginny smirks at him and he raises an eyebrow, taking a deep breath and composing himself. He’s a Malfoy. He’s been trained in social interactions since he was able to talk. Harry moves forward, taking Charlie’s hand. Charlie pulls him into a hug and Draco feels a stab of jealousy.

“And you must be Draco,” Charlie keeps his arm slung around Harry’s shoulder as he turns his blue eyes onto Draco. Fuck, he is the hot one. And he has his arm around Harry. Draco nods, pulling Ginny closer and she chuckles to herself. Draco turns to glare at her and she cackles, giving him a shove towards Charlie. He stares at her for a second and she smiles at him encouragingly, making warmth flood through him. He sighs and turns to Charlie, smiling at him.

“I am. And you must be Charlie,” Draco holds out his hand. Charlie glances at Harry before grinning and pulling Draco into a hug, his strong muscles hard against Draco. Draco smells warm sweat and earth and fire, his head going light at the smell. Charlie pulls away and Draco takes a step back, heat rising in his cheeks. Charlie stares at him for a moment, smiling, and Draco feels like he’s being assessed.

“You got a good one here Harry,” Charlie suddenly says, not taking his eyes off Draco’s, “He’d get on with Andrew.” Charlie moves away from Draco, back towards Harry and Ginny brushes past Draco towards her brother.

“Andrew is Charlie’s husband,” Ginny whispers as she passes Draco, tapping him on the shoulder. Draco feels his shoulders relax and he stands watching Harry laugh with his family, his eyes sparkling, looking radiant. He moves backwards to lean against the doorframe, crossing one leg over the other and his arms over his chest.  
A soft hand rests on Draco’s shoulder and he looks down to smile at Molly standing next to him a soft look on her face as she looks at her children. 

“Look at my babies,” she whispers and Draco nods, watching as Ron walks into the kitchen from the other door, slapping Harry on the back and passing Charlie a bottle of firewhiskey. Ginny pouts at him and he rolls his eyes, passing her his bottle after taking a swig. They look so good together, all of them, laughing and completely in sync. And now Draco is part of it.

“It’s nice… seeing them together,” Draco keeps his voice low and continues to stare as he feels Molly’s eyes on him. His skin itches and he knows she’s going to say something. Every Sunday since he spoke to her about taking Harry to meet his parents she’s given him a look, like she’s waiting for him to do something to make her proud.

“It is,” she places a hand on Draco’s, her fingers warm against his cool ones, “it’s nice being around family. It gives you something that being around other people can’t give you.” Draco turns to look at her, a lump in his throat and he curses himself. Malfoy’s don’t get tearful at the thought of disappointing family. They just don’t do it.

“It’s nice to be around some family,” he can hear his voice crack and Molly gazes into his eyes for a moment. Draco can see where Charlie got it from. Then Molly sighs and squeezes his hand.

“It’s nice to be around all family, Draco, sweetheart. And you know that you’re part of our family now but…” she glances at where Harry is now perched on the work surface sharing a bottle with Ron as Charlie tells them an elaborate story and Ginny laughs, her long hair swishing around her face, “but I wish you’d talk to your parents. I know what your mother did to save you in the war. She’d want to see you.”

“I don’t think so…” Draco feels the tear slide down his cheek before he can blink it away and Molly lets go of his hand to brush it off. Draco leans into her hand slightly before coughing and standing straighter, composing himself like a good Malfoy. “They made it clear they didn’t want to see me again.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Molly takes his elbow and turns him to face her, “I don’t think anyone could see you two boys together and not want to be a part of it. You light each other up. Promise you you’ll try, Draco.” Her eyes seem sad for a moment and Draco glances at the Weasleys again, laughing with each other, Harry in the middle, one of them like he was born into it. His heart aches and he realises that maybe… He looks back to Molly and nods.

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading


	31. In Which Harry Is Worried

“So…” Harry sighs and he feels Draco’s laugh rumble in his chest. Harry readjusts, wrapping his arm tighter around Draco’s waist and pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

“So…” Draco pulls Harry in, his voice thick and sleepy. They lie in silence for a moment as Harry worries his bottom lip, not sure how he should start talk to Draco. “Harry either tell me what’s on your mind or go back to sleep. It’s too early for this,” Draco mumbles and Harry stills for a moment before untangling himself and sitting up, leaning against the head board. He glances at his boyfriend, his long body stretched out, pale in the early morning light. It has taken a while for Draco to get used to sleeping with the curtains open. Harry is glad he has.

Draco groans and opens his eyes, blinking up at Harry, his white blonde hair falling over his forehead even in his sleep. Harry smiles at him and brushes the hair from Draco’s forehead and Draco catches his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. 

“What are you thinking?” Draco asks, his voice softer. He’s putting that voice on, Harry knows he is. It’s the voice he uses when he has to ask a question that he’s not sure he’ll like the answer to. He uses it in interrogation when he’s talking to children.

“I’m not thinking of much…” Harry mumbles, toying with the duvet. He knows he should talk to Draco. Talking to your partner is what you do when you’re worried about something. Especially if your worry has something to do with them.

“Of course not,” Draco drawls, “but if for once in your life you were thinking, what would you be thinking?” Harry glances at Draco to see him with one eyebrow raised into a perfect curve, his lips twitching slightly. Harry shuffles, shaking his head and pulling the duvet higher up his body and Draco looks annoyed. He moves quickly and Harry is surprised to find himself pinned underneath a long, very naked, very warm body.

“I don’t even know how you do that,” Harry mumbles as Draco nuzzles at his throat.

“Hmm?” Draco murmurs, mouthing at the nerve at the base of Harry’s neck, “I’m an Auror Harry. It’s part of our job. Would you like me to show you what else I can do?” Harry can feel Draco smirk into his skin and a low, guttural sound rolls from the back of Harry’s throat. He moves to wrap his arms around Draco, pulling him closer, feeling the hard muscles in Draco’s back ripple as he rocks against Harry.

“I would love to see what else you can do,” Harry whispers, running his tongue along Draco’s ear, feeling him shudder. Harry is instantly pinned to the bed, Draco’s long fingers digging into his hips as Draco takes Harry’s mouth with his. Harry opens his mouth for Draco, sliding his tongue along the other man’s, tasting the sharp tang of Draco in the morning. He can feel Draco hard against him and starts to rock.

Draco’s hands move up Harry’s body, sending shivers through him, Draco’s nimble fingers stroking at Harry’s bare skin as Draco slide between his legs, pinning him to the bed. Harry moves his hips, his cock pressed against Draco’s waves of pleasure running through him. Draco’s tongue strokes languidly into Harry’s mouth and his hands move to Harry’s wrist, moving them above Harry’s head and pinning them there. Harry moans and Draco moves away giving him a wicked grin.

“What are you thinking?” Draco’s voice is sweet and teasing and Harry feels his heart jump. Fucker.

“Nothing,” Harry mutters, raising his head to try and kiss Draco. Draco pulls back slightly, pressing down harder with his hands, pushing his hips forward until Harry is completely unable to move.

“Liar,” Draco smirks, “Now I won’t start again until you tell me the truth.” Draco pushes his hips and Harry closes his eyes, biting at his lip, his heart pounding, his head whirring.

“Is this the technique that you use on all the people you interrogate? Because we might need to talk about it if it is,” Harry breathes, wriggling against Draco, needing to touch him, to feel him hard against him, rocking against him, into him. Draco chuckles and the vibrations run through Harry making him feel dizzy. Draco bends down and Harry can smell him, sweet and soapy and warm.

“Only if the bad guy has been a very,” Draco presses a hot kiss to Harry’s neck, sucking at the skin, “Very,” another kiss, Harry arching to try and feel more of Draco, “naughty.” One last kiss and Harry’s heart jumps and he opens his eyes. 

“Fuck me Draco…” Harry’s voice sound pathetic even to him and Draco laughs against Harry’s neck.

“After you tell me what you were thinking,” Draco mumbles, sucking hard on the pulse point of Harry’s neck. Harry groans and wiggles a bit as Draco continues to mouth at his throat.

“Fine!” He says after a minute and Draco laughs, letting go of Harry’s wrists to sit up. Harry looks up at him, trying not to blush. “It’s just… Ron and Hermione. They’re getting married… and that means, y’know… they might not want to live here anymore…” Harry glances down, moving to twist Draco’s pyjama bottoms in his fingers. He knows Draco is smiling at him, because he can always tell when Draco is smiling at him.

“No. No, one day they might want to have their own house.” Draco agrees, his voice soft.

“And then…” Harry swallows, “And then it would be… just… um… just us.”

“Yes,” Draco breathes, “but I don’t think it’ll be for a long time yet. You all need each other… that isn’t going to change for a while.” Harry feels Draco’s fingers curl around his chin before his head is tilted to look at his boyfriend, his hair shining like a halo, flopping and falling into his face, his grey eyes sparkling. Harry smiles and moves to press a soft kiss to Draco’s lips. Draco pushes back and Harry wraps his arms around Draco’s waist, pulling him back down onto the bed.

“But when it does happen…” Harry murmurs against Draco’s mouth.

“We’ll be just fine. We’ll always be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading


	32. In Which Draco Visits His Parents Because He Promised Molly He Would

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry...

Draco sits at the dining table in the Manor and reminds himself never to promise Molly Weasley anything ever again. He clenches his fists under the table and glares at his father, his mother sitting ram-rod straight, looking tired and bored. He knows that she isn’t bored. Just practiced. Because even in the company of no one else but her husband and her son, Narcissa Malfoy can’t just… relax.

“So answer me this then Draco,” his father drawls, his voice like ice, and Draco forces himself not to wince. He’d sounded like that once. “How long do you plan to ignore your duties?” Draco takes a deep breath, his heart pounding.

“How long do you plan on ignoring me when I tell you that I’m not going to slither home and take over the family businesses and marry some pure-blood breeder?” Draco spits through gritted teeth. His formal robes are too tight around his neck and his hair feels strange plastered to his head. He shouldn’t be here. He should be at home with Weasley and Hermione, in muggle clothes with his hair falling in his eye.

“Your mother and I didn’t raise you to become something as common as an… Auror,” Lucius snarls, the flash in his eyes the only indication he’s not in complete control, “we raised you to be part of a better class of society.”

“This?” Draco shouts, gesturing around him, not caring that his mother jumps slightly. Good. “You call this a better class of society? Do I really need to remind you what has happened in this house?” Draco feels a hard lump in his throat the second that the words leave his mouth. They don’t talk about the war. They don’t talk about what they did.

“Everyone makes mistakes, Draco.” His father sits taller, his hand brushing against his cane and Draco freezes, his heart pounding, a rushing sound filling his ears. He’s forgotten quite how terrifying his father could be. “You, for example. You really think you can continue with the existence you have chosen for yourself?”

“It’s my life,” Draco’s voice is smaller than he wants it to be. He takes a deep breath, trying to school his features and glances at his mother, needing her to help him. She lied to Voldemort for him. She can stand up to his father. She stares back at him, her eyes clear and placid. Well… fuck.

“We gave you that life. You should be grateful, Draco. Think of the life you could have had.” His father raises one eyebrow and Draco’s mind flashes to the Weasleys, their haphazard house, their hand-me-down clothes and wands and pets, their clutter and warmth and laughter. He would give anything to have had their life instead. He scowls at his father.

“I should be grateful? For what? I love the way my life is now. I love my job, and my friends, and my Sunday’s at the Weasley’s,” he glances at his mother to see her wince slightly, “and my boyfriend.”

“Ah… yes…” Lucius smirks, “your… boyfriend. How is the notorious Mr Potter?” Draco feels a shiver go through him. Fuck. Harry came here. How could he fucking forget that?

“He’s great.” Draco takes a deep breath and stares at his father, dreading where this conversation is going.

“And when do you think you’ll realise that you should give up this ridiculous notion you have of your perceived homosexuality and meet your pure-blood expectations?” Lucius picks up his glass of wine and takes a sip, his eyes never leaving Draco’s. Draco feels sick. His nails dig into his palm.

“Never.” Draco keeps his voice strong, ignoring the dizziness in his head and the hot pressure in the base of his neck. Lucius stares at him for a moment and Draco forces himself to be strong, his palms sweating, his legs numb.

“Oh, Draco… tut, tut my dear boy,” his father finally says, his voice low and quiet, “we all know that isn’t true. You wouldn’t disgrace us any further than you already have. We need an heir. Soon. So you will be giving up this ridiculous life you have. You will do what is expected of you.”

“No, I won’t!” Draco says, trying to keep his voice strong, ignoring the fact that it sounds more like he’s begging than fighting, “I’m not doing what you want me to do any more. I spent my life doing what you wanted me to do and look at what it gave me!” His heart jumps a moment before Lucius is on his feet, his long fingers wrapped in Draco’s robes, pulling Draco out of his chair and bringing their noses close together.

“It has given you everything. It’s those… despicable half-bloods and blood-traitors that have taken away what you are entitled to. What we are entitled to,” Lucius spits at Draco, his breath sour, his eyes alight and Draco feels sick, “Now it’s time that you stopped this embarrassing experiment of yours and returned to your duties. We need an heir Draco.”  
Draco’s eyes dart between his fathers. Fuck… an heir. He is way too young for children… would Harry even want…? No . No, his father would never allow the Malfoy heir to come from the two of them. But maybe… maybe if Draco said yes to an heir then his father would let him keep Harry. He needs to keep Harry.

“Ok, father…” Draco whispers, his whole body shaking, “I’ll give you an heir.” Lucius’ smile is cruel and cold and Draco feels sick. His mind whirring, trying to capture images of Harry, trying to think of what he can do to make this better.

“I’ll start making arrangements with the Greengrasses,” his father lets go of his robes and sits back down in his chair and Draco stares at him, his heart pounding.

“Why?” Draco asks, knowing the answer.

“We need to arrange your marriage to Miss Astoria so that you can reproduce soon.” Lucius doesn’t look at Draco as he takes another sip of his wine. Draco shakes his head, his feet frozen to the floor. No. No. No. Lucius finally looks at him and Draco forces his mouth open, forces the breath into his lungs.

“I’m not marrying Astoria. I will produce you an heir, but I won’t leave Harry.” Draco glares and Lucius huffs.

“You will marry Astoria. What you do with Potter after you have conceived is your business, although I expect you to be discreet. You will not embarrass this family any more, Draco.” Lucius’ voice holds no room for argument and Draco feels his heart stop, tears pricking the back of his eyes. No. He’s a fucking Malfoy. He doesn’t cry when things go wrong. He stands staring at his parents as they continue eating the lunch that had been forgotten, the clinking of the cutlery on china the only sound in the room.

Draco’s mind moves through the options he has, each one more terrifying than the last. He wants to run. To go back to his home. To Harry. But as his father ignores him, so sure that Draco will do what he wants, Draco realises he can’t. He glances at his mother, her shoulders slumped slightly even though her back is straight, her eyes distant, her lips unsmiling. He did that. He made her unhappy. His mother who lied to Voldemort to save his life. He can’t disappoint her.

He’s fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading


	33. In Which Harry Is Pretty Sure Something Is Wrong

“Where did you go earlier?” Harry tries to keep his voice low, but he’s had five firewhiskeys and three of those weird shots that Seamus likes that get lit on fire. Draco shuffles slightly and Harry squints, trying to focus on his face. Draco has a nice face.

“I told you, I went to the Manor to pick up some books,” Draco’s voice doesn’t sound right, it’s too… Too… Too something. Harry frowns and looks down at his glass. It’s nearly empty. He probably shouldn’t have any more. He turns to ask Draco if he’s going to have another. Draco’s eyes dart to him before looking down into his glass. He looks sad. Draco shouldn’t be sad.

Harry leans forward and presses a sloppy kiss to his lips. Draco must be surprised because he makes a small yelping sound before slipping his fingers through Harry’s hair and pulling him closer, opening his mouth and licking into Harry’s. Harry grabs at Draco’s hips, pulling at him, ignoring the shouts from Ron. Ron can fuck off.

Draco continues to kiss Harry, dirty and desperate. Draco never kisses Harry in the pub. Something about drawing attention to them. There must be something wrong. Harry thinks about pulling back and asking him, but Draco is tracing little circles onto Harry’s jaw with his thumb as the other hand pulls lightly at his hair and Harry doesn’t want to move.

Draco makes a little whiny sound that runs through Harry. But it’s wrong. Fucking sexy, but wrong. Draco doesn’t make whiny sounds. Draco growls. Maybe Harry can try and make him make whiny sounds next time they have sex. Maybe tonight. But now Harry has to find out what’s wrong.

“Maybe we should…” Harry pulls back and mumbles. He can feel Draco’s breath on his lips. It tickles. And Draco’s hands are still in Harry’s hair and on his neck and making little circles. Harry looks into Draco’s eyes and stops. There’s something wrong. Draco’s eyes look… Something’s wrong. “Draco… What’s wrong?” Harry asks, trying to pull away. Draco’s fingers tighten before he leans his forehead against Harry’s.

“Nothing…” Draco breathes. Harry isn’t sure, but his head has started spinning and he can’t feel his toes. He definitely shouldn’t have drunk as much as he has. Draco leans forward and presses another hot kiss to Harry’s lips. No. There’s something wrong. And Harry is an Auror. It’s his job to fix things when they go wrong.

Draco’s tongue starts to trace Harry’s lip and Harry tries to think. It’s hard. There’s something wrong with Draco. But he was ok this morning. They had sex and breakfast. It was nice. Hermione tried to talk to them about that new werewolf law. Harry really should go and see Teddy. Maybe this weekend they could take him to a muggle cinema. Draco likes muggle cinemas. They could go for pizza first.

No, Harry tries to shake his head but Draco’s hands are still holding him tightly. Harry opens his mouth, letting Draco’s tongue stroke against his. It’s nice. Very nice. No. He’s supposed to be trying to figure out what’s wrong with Draco. Draco moans and Harry instinctively holds him tighter, his fingers digging into the hard muscles at Draco’s waist. So he was fine this morning. Sex. Breakfast. Teddy. Then Harry had to go to work for a couple of hours, but Draco didn’t seem annoyed about that. Draco knows what it’s like when they’re on an important case. If Draco was annoyed at him he probably wouldn’t be kissing Harry in the pub.

But he was a bit quiet when Harry got back from work. What had he done whilst Harry was at work? Draco shuffles in his seat, moving closer and Harry wraps one arm around his waist. It feels nice. Draco is warm and solid and all his. But he’s sad. He went to the Manor. That’s it. Harry smiles to himself against Draco’s mouth. He figured it out. Something happened at the Manor. Harry frowns. Oh. That’s bad.

“Draco…” Harry pulls away a little, “what is it? Is… Did your father say something?” Because Draco wasn’t being weird before he went to the Manor. And then he went. Draco sighs and lets go of Harry’s face. It makes Harry’s neck feel cold. He liked it better when Draco was kissing him.

“My father always says something,” Draco mutters and Harry frowns. What was the question he asked? Oh… yes. Draco is sad. His father said something. Harry moves forward and wraps his arms around Draco.

“What did he say this time?” Harry mumbles into Draco’s shoulder, kissing it through the material of his shirt. He has a nice shoulder. It’s very strong. Draco sighs and looks down at him, craning his neck to press a soft kiss to Harry’s head.

“Nothing that you need to worry about,” Draco smiles at Harry. It doesn’t look right. Harry frowns and moves to kiss Draco. Draco always smiles properly when Harry kisses him. Harry pushes his lips against Draco’s, feeling them warm and soft. Draco’s hand move back to wrap around Harry, bringing his close. Very close. It’s nice. Draco’s mouth opens with Harry’s and Harry loses himself in the kiss.

Draco kisses like he’s drowning and Harry is the only thing keeping him alive. Harry doesn’t think he can think too much about that. He definitely has had too much to drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading!


	34. In Which Draco Remembers How Much Of A Dick His Father Is

If Harry hadn’t been trying to steal his ice-cream then Draco would have been paying attention to where they were going and he would have seen his father walking towards them. But Harry was trying to steal his ice-cream, so he wasn’t paying attention and now he’s standing in front of his father. He feels Harry’s hand slide around him and he drops his ice-cream on the floor. Fuck.

“Hello gentlemen,” Lucius drawls, raising an eyebrow in disgust at how close Harry is standing to Draco. Draco’s heart pounds and he feels frozen to the spot. He wants to wriggle away from Harry, to turn on the spot and Apparate home. But Harry’s hand is warm and solid on his side and his father’s eyes are ice cold and pinning him where he is.

“Mr Malfoy,” Harry’s voice is curt. Draco knows he should be talking. He should be taking Harry away from this man who wants Draco to have nothing to do with him. His father doesn’t look at Harry, his eyes boring into Draco and Draco reaches with one hand, looking for Harry. He feels Harry’s fingers dig into his side as Harry’s other hand links with Draco’s. It’s warm and strong and Draco feels love wash through him.

“What are you doing here father?” Draco snaps, trying to keep his voice strong. Lucius smirks and Draco feels sick, his stomach churning. He’s been seeing that smirk his entire life.

“Setting our affairs into order,” Lucius looks at Harry, his eyes darting across his face before moving back to Draco, “After all, everything needs to be in sorted for our little… agreement.” Draco freezes, feeling Harry looking at him. Draco closes his eyes for a moment, hoping that Harry won’t do what he always fucking does.

“Agreement?” Harry asks, and Draco sighs. Well… fuck. Of course Harry fucking had to go and ask. Because Harry always asks. Because he can’t control himself. Draco opens his eyes and gives Harry a smile that he can feel doesn’t reach his eyes. Harry’s hand tightens on Draco’s hip and Draco winces. Harry looks worried and if they weren’t standing in front of his father Draco would kiss the worry away.

But his father is there. Grinning at them like he’s found out something wonderful.

“Why yes… did Draco not mention?” Lucius looks between the two of them and Draco thinks, not for the first time, how much he hates his father. He shakes his head slightly, stepping out of Harry’s arm and turning to face him. Harry’s green eyes shine with concern and Draco can feel the thumping in his head.

“It’s nothing… just something we talked about when I went to the Manor the other day,” Draco glances at his father. The prick. Lucius moves closer and Draco squeezes Harry’s hand moving them back. He needs to get Harry away from his fucking father before his father says anything to ruin his life. Which sounds exactly like something he’d do.

“Yeah… but what was it?” Harry looks at Draco, his eyes not leaving Draco’s face. Draco takes a deep breath, trying to control the ache in his chest and the heat rising up his neck. Fuck. This isn’t going to end well.

“Can we talk about it when we get home?” Draco mumbles, glancing at his father. Harry’s hand squeezes his and Harry’s eyes flash with anger. Draco’s legs feel numb and he knows, just knows, that Harry is going to want to talk now. In the middle of Diagon. With his father standing right there. But then his father clears his throat and Harry glances at him, seeing the raised eyebrow and the smug smile and he turns back to Draco.

“Of course,” Harry says after a moment and Draco takes a deep breath. Ok. This he can deal with. Now he just has to get rid of his father. And then tell his boyfriend that his dad is a prick. Draco’s mind whirs as he tries to think about what he’s going to say to Harry. Maybe… maybe he doesn’t have to tell him about Astoria. Maybe he can get Astoria to be reasonable…

“Oh wonderful,” his father sneers and Draco freezes, “No one likes a scene, Draco. At least you haven’t lost all of your class.” He glares for a second before his features smooth out and Draco knows it’s coming. He knows that that face means. Placid indifference is the scariest look his father can give him.

“Indeed, well father… we must be going home,” Draco jumps in, pulling at Harry’s hand, trying to step around Lucius. Draco doesn’t look as he feels something land on his shoulder. He doesn’t have to. He knows that it’s his father’s cane, cold and hard, stopping his from moving.

“Remember you place Draco. You can live wherever you want for now, but once that heir is born you will take your place at the Manor,” his father’s voice slips into his ear. All hope that Harry didn’t hear disappears as he feels Harry’s hand tighten around his. Draco takes a deep breath and looks at his father with disgust.

“I’m giving you your child, where I live is my choice,” he breathes, his voice smaller than he’d want. His father stares at him for a moment before nodding and lifting the cane. Draco doesn’t waste any time, dragging Harry through the crowd and away from danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thank you for reading!


	35. In Which Harry And Draco Make A Big Decision

“You spoke to your father about having children before you spoke to me!” Harry’s heart pounds in his chest, his stomach swirling as he stares at his boyfriend. Draco shuffles on his feet slightly and Harry thinks for a second that Draco isn’t going to fight him. But it only take a moment and Draco visibly steels himself, standing taller, his face relaxing into a placid mask and Harry knows that he’s holding it in.

“Of course I spoke to my father about children. I’ve been speaking to my father about children since I was able to have them.” Draco’s voice is smooth and strong and Harry knows, just knows that Draco is putting it on.

“Hypothetical children! Children without another parent!” Harry shouts, moving away from Draco, feeling slightly sick. He can feel his pulse in his fingertips, and his mind is moving too fast. Draco doesn’t move towards him and Harry knows there’s something wrong with that. But then Draco crumples into the armchair, looking tired and broken and Harry forgets to analyse Draco’s movements. 

“I’m sorry Harry, but it came up when I went to the Manor the other day. What do you want me to have done?” Draco’s jaw twitches and Harry paces in front of him.

“I don’t know… I…” Harry pauses and turns to look at Draco, his eyes scanning over Draco’s strong features, his stormy grey eyes, his drawn mouth, his hair falling into one eye. “What happened at the Manor, Draco?” Draco stills, his eyes flashing down and Harry knows there’s something wrong.

“Nothing I want to discuss,” Draco’s voice is small and quiet and Harry almost wishes he was shouting. He can deal with shouting Draco. This is harder.

“Draco…” Harry takes a step closer, wanting to reach out and take Draco into his arms. But if he does then Draco will freeze and close up, and Harry will never find out what happened at the Manor. Draco looks at him and Harry sees his eyes flicker and shut off. Fuck.

“My father was a prick. We discussed my future. You made an appearance in said discussion. We argued. And, as I knew I would, I eventually agreed with him.” Draco’s voice is so cold that Harry blinks. He moves to take a seat, a rushing sound filling his ears as he tries to think about what to say next. He needs Draco to open to him again. Interrogation techniques. Except Draco knows all of Harry’s interrogation techniques. And he’s a million times better at interrogation than Harry, he’ll run rings around him.

“You don’t have to agree with him, you know?” In the end Harry goes for bluntness. That’s always worked for him before. Mostly. Draco’s eyes snap to Harrys, piercing and on fire. Harry takes a deep breath. Shit.

“I’m not the one who first went to see him Harry. You did.” Draco snaps and Harry feels like he’s been slapped. He clenches his fists, taking a deep breath before he says something he knows he’ll regret.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Harry growls through gritted teeth and Draco raises an eyebrow.

“It makes him think he has some say in what we do. You included him in our lives as a couple, not just in my life as my parent.” Draco rubs his temples and Harry freezes. Fuck. He hadn’t thought of that. Maybe he should have listened to Draco. Not that he’s going to say that.

“So…” Harry takes a deep breath, “so what are we going to do?” Draco runs his long fingers through his hair and Harry relaxes slightly. Draco can’t be that mad, not any more. “Do you want children?” Harry hates that his voice is so small, but Draco looks at him, and suddenly it doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.

“Yes…” Draco whispers and Harry nods. Right. Draco wants children. And Harry wants Draco. And children. He stops for a moment, biting at his bottom lip. Fuck. Yes. He wants children with Draco. He slides of the sofa and starts to move towards Draco, needing to touch him, to kiss him, to show that he loves him.

“And… not just because it’s what your dad wants?” Harry crooks his head to one side, studying Draco. Draco’s eyes flicker for a moment and Harry watches as his lips twitch.

“No. Not just because it’s what my father wants.” Draco’s lips curl into a smile as Harry reaches him. He doesn’t move as Harry slides his arms around Draco’s waist, but his eyes don’t leave Harry’s. Harry pulls at him, bringing him closer.

“And you want to have kids with me?” Harry whispers and Draco folds into him, wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders and pulling him close. Harry takes a deep breath, smelling the sweet heat of Draco and his heart tightens.

“Yes, Harry, I want to have children with you. That is exactly what I want,” Draco whispers. Harry tries to pull away but Draco holds him tight, his long arms solid around Harry’s neck. Harry smiles into Draco’s skin and he feels Draco release a shuddery breath. “I love you.” Draco’s voice is so small Harry almost doesn’t hear it. His heart stops and he swallows.

“I love you too,” Harry whispers back. Draco nods once.

“Ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading and sticking with this!


	36. In Which Draco Talks To Hermione And Ginny About His Baby

Draco picks up the soft cashmere jumper and turns it over in his hands. Harry would look great in this shade of green. But he’d ruin it in about five minutes. Draco sighs and runs his fingers over it again.

“Harry’ll ruin that in five minutes,” Ginny says from his elbow and he turns to smile at her.

“I know… I’m debating whether it’s worth seeing him wear it once.” It’s so soft under his fingers and he can just imagine Harry’s hard lines and curved muscles under it. He swallows as he feels the blush rise in his cheeks and Ginny leans over to look at the price.

“For a Weasley, hell no,” she whistles, before looking at him with a smirk, “but for a Malfoy, probably.” Draco rolls his eyes and picks up the jumper. Ginny’s right. It’s not exactly like he can’t afford it. And if Draco can’t do anything about Astoria… well, this might be the only Christmas that Draco gets with Harry. They move through the shop to find Hermione stood next to the thick winter coats. She looks up and smiles as they approach, her eyes landing on the jumper in Draco’s hand.

“Harry will ruin that in five minutes,” she grins and Draco sighs.

“Yes, thank you,” he tries to sound snappy, superior, Malfoy-like, but he’s pretty much lost the ability to be like that around these two. He gazes at the jumper, Harry’s face in his mind, and strokes it again, “but it’ll look great on him the one time he wears it. Anyway, I do our clothes washing…” He grimaces at the two women and they laugh.

“I can’t believe how disgustingly in love you two are,” Ginny grins when she’s finished laughing and Draco feels the now familiar lump form in his throat. Because he is. But in a large house in the middle of Wiltshire someone is planning his wedding. 

Well… that’s just not going to happen. Draco’s an Auror. He runs into dangerous situations for a living. He had the Dark Lord in his house for over a year. He can stand up to his parents.

“I can’t believe they’re going to have a baby!” Hermione starts to walk through the shop again, her fingers sliding over the clothes. Draco sees a pair of thick gloves and thinks about Harry’s hand, his strong fingers numb from the cold. He could do with some new gloves.

“What’s so unbelievable about us having a baby?” Draco asks, picking the gloves up. They’re made from wool and some sort of smooth manmade material. The label says it’s thermal. Draco puts them down. Harry would be better off with some soft dragon-hide gloves. At least they’d protect his hands a little from rogue spells.

“Seriously? You have to ask that?” Ginny snorts and Draco rolls his eyes at her as they walk towards the tills. He digs in his pocket for his muggle card and tries to think about how much money he’s going to have to put into that account. Harry usually does it for him. Not because Draco doesn’t know how. Because Harry is a lovely boyfriend.

“We’re both adults. We have good jobs. A house we both live in. And for a pure-blood I’m basically ancient,” Draco mutters as he glances around, checking that they’re the only ones in the shop. He moves forward and smiles at the boy behind the desk. He reminds Draco of Harry when he was a teenager, gangly and awkward. Maybe that’s what their son will look like. The boy scans the jumper and starts to bag it as Draco watches him. Yes, except maybe their son will have blond hair like his. Draco instinctively runs his fingers through his hair, the bit in the front immediately flopping into his eye and he sighs. Maybe he’ll have thick hair like Harry’s, but blond like his. That would be cute. Maybe with Harry’s green eyes and Draco’s chin. 

His stomach drops when he remembers Astoria. No. She can’t have his child. It doesn’t belong to her. It belongs to Harry.

The boy finishes packing and Draco pays, not really paying attention to how much the jumper costs. It’ll look great on Harry. He smiles at the boy as he takes the bag and leaves, Ginny and Hermione following him.

“I’m not saying you aren’t able to have babies,” Ginny links her arm through Draco’s as they walk down the busy street, heading towards the Leaky, “I’m just saying that less than a year ago you two weren’t really even friends…” Draco glances at her and Hermione coughs.

“You think it’s too soon?” Draco asks, keeping his voice bored and smooth. Ginny groans and leans into him a little bit, her hair falling in front of her face. Draco takes a deep breath, breathing in her sweet earthy smell and takes her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Ginevra, we will be fine.”

“It isn’t like you’re going to have a baby tomorrow,” Hermione rubs his shoulder and he gives her a grin. She smiles back, “I mean… Charlie and Andrew have been thinking about having a baby for years now. You have to decide how you want to do it first! I mean, there are so many options, adoption, surrogacy, potions… and then would you want to carry or would Harry? I did some reading and it suggested that a pure-blood might be able to get pregnant easier, but…”

“Hermione!” Ginny cackles and Hermione blushes prettily. Draco laughs and slings his free arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him.

“Maybe we don’t need to go and see a healer. What could they tell us that you don’t know?” Draco gives her shoulders a squeeze and she hits his stomach playfully, smiling up at him. Ginny snorts next to him and bumps into them so that they shuffle to the side, making the people around them grumble.

“That’s all the boring stuff! What do you think you’ll call it?” Ginny asks, her blue eyes shining.

“I don’t know… why, what were you thinking?” Draco asks, glancing at Hermione and smirking. She grins back at him and they both look at Ginny.

“Well, you know Ginny isn’t a bad name… Ginny Malfoy-Potter,” she raises one eyebrow and Draco feels the happiness rise in his stomach as he laughs with his friends.

There is no way that Astoria is having his child. Now he just has to think of a way to tell his father that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading


	37. In Which Harry And Ron Get Drunk On Christmas Day

“Can you honestly tell me what you think?” Harry looks across at Ron. Ron leans back in his transfigured chair, pulling his new cloak closer around him and sipping on a bottle of firewhiskey. The snow surrounds them, glistening and perfect and Harry tries not to feel overly emotional. Ron does not like it when he cries.

“I think you’re mental, mate,” Ron grimaces and hands the bottle to Harry, “you’re thinking of having bloody kids with fucking Malfoy!” Harry stares at him for a moment before taking a swig from the bottle, heat flowing through him, his toes starting to tingle. They watch as the snow starts to fall, the sound of laughter and excitement floating from the house. Harry snuggles down into his coat, the cashmere of his new jumper soft against his skin. He’s probably supposed to be wearing a t-shirt underneath, but the look on Draco’s face when he’d slipped it on this morning over his bare chest was worth the occasional cold blast across his nipples.

“I think that if it’s what you want then it’s what you should get,” Ron’s voice is low and Harry grins, “you deserve to have what you want. And you two… you’ll make great parents.” Ron holds his hand out and Harry hands the bottle over to him. Ron takes a swig and shudders, placing the bottle next to him in a snow hole.

“It’ll take a while,” Harry mumbles, “we still have to decide how we want to do it…”

“Have you spoken to Charlie? I’m pretty sure him and Andrew are almost ready to get pregnant.”

“Ha,” Harry scoffs, “Where do you think Draco is right now? I don’t think they’ve stopped talking about our options since we got here.” Ron laughs and picks the bottle out of the snow and takes a swig, passing it to Harry. Harry takes it and glances towards the house, Draco’s long, lean body visible from the garden through the window, his arms moving about wildly, his new dark green Weasley jumper making his hair seem whiter than possible.

“He seems really excited about it…” Ron pauses and Harry’s heart jumps a little, his hand frozen on the bottle, “although… is there something wrong with him? He sort of looks sad sometimes.” Harry takes a large swig from the bottle. If Ron has noticed then Draco clearly isn’t happy. He’s usually pretty good at hiding his emotions.

“I don’t know… sometimes when we talk about having a baby he’s really happy. But then… it’s like he remember something, someone…” Harry rubs at his forehead, feeling the thin line of his scar under his fingertip. Ron snorts and takes the bottle from Harry.

“No prizes for guessing who that is,” Ron grimaces as he finishes the bottle and Vanishes it. Harry crosses his arms over his chest. Fucking Lucius Malfoy. Harry shudders as he remembers the piercing eyes casually talking about their child, the fucking Malfoy heir, like it was a given. Like Harry didn’t have any say in it. He feels his jaw clenching and his fists tightening into balls. And then he gets hit in the arm.

“Oi!” Harry glares at Ron, rubbing his arm. 

“No thinking grumpy thoughts! It’s Christmas, we’re getting pissed, and your life partner is inside talking to my brother about the best ways to have a fucking baby.” Ron picks up another bottle he has stashed away under a pile of snow, “And I’m getting fucking married next year! This is my last Christmas as a not married man!” Ron shouts into the snow and Harry laughs, taking the bottle from Ron and opening it. 

“Yes you are! And I’m going to have a fucking baby!” Harry shouts before chugging at the bottle, the alcohol burning his throat and making his eyes sting. His head is spinning and his limbs are pleasantly numb.

“Ron? Harry?” Hermione calls from the step and Ron whips his head around with a groan, “Are you two going to sit out there all evening? George wants to try out a new product he’s developed for the New Year…” Ron waves a hand at her and she smiles, shaking her head and walking back into the house. Harry hands the bottle back to Ron and tries to stand up, his legs wobbling slightly. Ron downs a quarter of the bottle and grabs hold of Harry’s hand to help drag him up. They stand for a moment, looking at the chairs.

“I don’t think I’d be able to change them back even if I wanted to…” Ron hiccups and Harry laughs, grabbing the bottle and takes a swig.

“Nah… we’ll do it tomorrow! Come on… let’s see if your mum has any mince pies.” Harry hands the bottle back to Ron. Ron finishes it off, Vanishing the bottle and slinging his arm over Harry’s shoulder as they stagger towards the house.

“Hey Harry,” Ron mumbles as they get close.

“Yeah?” Harry grins at him.

“I hope you don’t have a Slytherin kid. You make the best friends in Gryffindor.” Ron’s eyes are glassy and Harry pats him on the waist.

“Love you too, you fucking piss head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved. Thanks for reading!


	38. In Which Draco Tries And Fails

When Draco had asked Astoria to lunch so that they could talk about their future he hadn’t expected her to bring his mother. But here they are, talking about flowers and food and music and other things that Draco doesn’t care about because he isn’t getting married.

At least not to Astoria Greengrass.

He picks up his glass of whiskey and takes a sip, the heat of the liquid running through him. At least his father isn’t here. This would be a lot scarier with Lucius staring at him. He downs the rest of his whiskey and signals for the waiter to bring him another glass. He watches as the two women ignore him. If he and Harry ever get married they’re eloping.

“Draco, darling, what do you think about snowdrops?” Astoria smiles at him, too sweet and too smooth. Draco quite likes snowdrops. Not that he’s going to tell her that.

“Astoria…” Draco leans forward. Astoria and his mother stop what they’re talking about and look at him just as the waiter puts his new glass next to him. He picks it up, takes a deep breath and a sip of the amber liquid and then looks at the two women. He needs to say it now. He needs to get it over and done with so that he can move on and go home. “We need to talk. I don’t…”

“Oh, Draco, don’t be so ridiculous,” Astoria snaps, waving her hand and turning back to his mother. Narcissa gives him a soft look of concern before turning to the woman she believes is going to be her future daughter-in-law. She’s not going to have a daughter-in-law. Draco growls and takes another sip, his head starting to go wonderfully light.

“Astoria, I’m not being ridiculous. We all know this isn’t going to happen.” Draco looks at them, breathing steadily, trying to make his heart behave in his chest. His mother stops what she’s doing and leans back in her chair as Astoria rolls her eyes.

“No, you think this isn’t going to happen,” Astoria’s voice is smooth and Draco has a fleeting thought that she’d be a perfect Malfoy. For someone else.

“I know it isn’t going to happen…”

“Why? Give me one good reason,” Astoria sticks her chin out and Draco looks between her and his mother. His mother’s eyes are cold and bored, Astoria’s full of anger and he feels the panic set in. Panic and annoyance.

“I can give you plenty of good reasons,” Draco leans forward, holding his long hand out, counting on his fingers, “One, I’m gay, and you are not a man. Two, I’m in a very serious relationship. Three, the person who I am in said serious relationship with is Harry fucking Potter. And four, possibly the most important reason, I don’t love you. We are not getting married Astoria.” Draco finishes, leaning back in his chair and taking another sip of whiskey.

“Draco!” Astoria giggles, her hand covering her mouth. Draco watches as his mother smiles at her approvingly. Fuck. “Draco, they aren’t good reasons. Lots of pure-blood wizards who are gay get married. You’ll just have to be discreet once we are. I’m not objecting to you being in a relationship with Harry Potter. Indeed, if you’re going to be unfaithful, Harry Potter is a very flattering person for you to be unfaithful with. And who said anything about love when it comes to a pure-blood marriage?” Astoria finishes, almost a perfect mimic of what Draco’s father would have said.

Fuck.

“They might not seem like good reasons to you, but they are more than good enough for me.” Draco says, ignoring the rushing in his ears, the numbness in his body. Adrenaline. Just like when he’s about to interrogate someone. He’s the best interrogator he knows apart for Weasley. He can beat Astoria Greengrass.

“They’re not, I’m afraid,” Astoria leans back, looking alarmingly like his mother, “you need this marriage as much as we do. We need your money, and you need us to restore your name in all good circles of society.”

“Astoria…” Draco takes a deep breath, steadying himself. He raises one eyebrow, keeping his head held high, exuding Malfoy calm and arrogance. Just like he’s been taught since he could speak. He sees Astoria pause and shrink back. “This isn’t going to happen. I’m sorry. I won’t marry you.” He sees the look of realisation sweep over her.

“But…” Astoria glances at Narcissa.

“Astoria…”

“Draco,” his mother interjects and Draco freezes. Fuck. He looks at her, her jaw set, her eyes strong. Nope, not a chance, “You will be going through with this marriage. It is not up for discussion. It has been arranged for you, and if you do not go through with it you will be disgracing the Malfoy family name further. And you will not disgrace the family name further. Is that understood?”

Draco looks at his mother, the woman who lied to Voldemort, who made an unbreakable vow to protect him, fighting against him. Telling him what his life will be and he knows…  
It feels like his chest is collapsing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading!


	39. In Which Harry Has A Conversation With Lucius Malfoy

When Harry opened the door the last person he expected to see was Lucius Malfoy. Mainly because Lucius wasn’t supposed to be able to find his house. Although it is the house his wife grew up in, so Harry guesses he didn’t really have to do much searching. Harry reminds himself to make sure the wards are stronger.

“Mr Potter.” Lucius moves to come into the house and Harry makes himself taller, taking up the doorway and refusing to move.

“Lucius,” Harry sneers. He knows he shouldn’t. This is Draco’s father. The grandfather of his potential future kids. But he’s not going to let himself be fucking intimidated by Lucius Malfoy in his own home. He defeated Voldemort. He can stand up to Lucius. They stand for a moment looking at each other, Harry breathing deeply, adrenalin pumping through his body.

“Perhaps this conversation would be better executed inside.” Lucius gestures past Harry and Harry looks at him, one eyebrow raised. Fuck if he’ll let Lucius Malfoy into his house. They stand and stare at each other and Harry watches as Lucius’ eyes hover over him, steel grey and so similar to Draco’s but without the warmth. 

“What do you want Lucius?” Harry asks, his voice sharp. Lucius continues to stare at him, and Harry can feel the shivers start to rise in his neck. He takes a deep breath, steadying his heart, and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not being intimidated by Lucius fucking Malfoy. Not when he’s seen what Draco’s like in the morning when they’ve run out of tea and Harry hasn’t washed the dishes from the night, or three, before.

“I’ve come to talk to you about my expectations regarding my son,” Lucius’ voice is like treacle, too thick and too sweet and Harry recognises it as the voice that Draco uses when he wants something during interrogation. 

“I don’t need to hear your expectations. I know what you expect of him,” Harry stares at Lucius, keeping his eyes fixed on him. His heart is pounding, his legs numb.

“Do you?” Lucius’ looks over Harry’s body and Harry feels instantly on edge. There’s something wrong. Something Harry doesn’t know. His mind whirs as he tries to figure out what it is. Lucius stands on his step, waiting for him to answer.

“You expect him to have a child, and to give up his job and move back to the Manor where you can control every aspect of how the child is being raised,” Harry takes a deep breath through his nose, steadying his heart at the thought of his child being anywhere near the man in front of him. “But I’m telling you right now, that isn’t happening. We aren’t moving into the Manor, and my child isn’t being raised by you.”

Lucius’ sneer makes Harry’s heart stop. He can feel the anger pouring off him in waves, his hand tight on the cane that Harry knows holds his wand. Harry’s fingers itch for his wand, left somewhere in the living room and he goes through the spells he can do wandlessly in his mind.

“No, I don’t expect your child will be raised by me,” Lucius’ tone suggests something and Harry starts to feel dizzy. Where the fuck is Draco? Draco would know how to handle this.

“And we aren’t moving into the Manor. Ever. Our child will be raised here, surrounded by people who love it.” Harry keeps his voice even as her looks over Lucius. He can figure this out. Lucius is basically a bigger, meaner, less sharp Draco. Although it’s been nearly a year and Harry still can’t quite figure out all of Draco.

“Mr Potter,” Lucius’ voice drips disdain and Harry feels the lump in his throat, “I assure you, you will never be welcome in the Manor. And whatever children you have can be raised in a hovel for all I care. What you do is of no consequence to me. However, I expect very different things from my son.”

Harry stares at him, his body stuck in place. Lucius is talk about Harry and Draco’s children like they’re separate things. Like they won’t be the same child. Like…

“Excuse me?” Harry’s voice is soft in his own ears and he flinches at how worried he sounds.

“Oh dear boy, let me try and explain it to you in simple terms. The Malfoy heir will not be your child. He will be raised by his father, Draco, and his mother, Miss Astoria Greengrass. The arrangements are already being made. What Draco decides to do after the child is born is neither here nor there, although I expect you to be discreet.” Lucius’ cold voice cuts through Harry and for a moment he feels like he might drown. He forces himself to breathe, keeping steady on his feet and staring at Lucius. He defeated Voldemort. He defeated fucking Voldemort. He defeated…

Lucius sneers at him and Harry feels his knees shake. He takes a step back, his heart pounding in his throat, his head spinning, his eyes stinging with tears that he refuses to let fall.

“I think you should leave,” Harry says, his voice cracking slightly and Lucius nods once before turning and sweeping down the steps. Harry moves to close the door, not hearing it click shut before he’s fallen into a pile on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved. Thanks for reading!


	40. In Which Draco Arrives Home To His Life Falling Apart

Draco knows there’s something wrong the second he steps through the floo to find a completely quiet house. No Weasley watching TV, no Hermione reading a book in the armchair. No Harry. He moves through the house, looking into each room, finding them completely empty.

“Kreacher?” Draco calls as he walks into the kitchen, finding it cold where it’s usually warm. A pop beside him makes him jump and looks down at the grumbling house elf. “Where is everyone?”

“Mistress Granger and Master Weasley have gone to The Burrow.” Kreacher mumbles, not looking pleased. Although he never looks pleased.

“And Harry?” Draco prompts and Kreacher looks somewhat pained. Draco feels a shiver of fear run through him. He doesn’t wait for Kreacher to answer before he turns and walks out of the kitchen, grabbing the banister with his long fingers as he swings himself onto the stairs, taking them two at a time to reach his bedroom.

He steps into the room and finds Harry sitting on their bed looking smaller than Draco has ever seen him. He takes a step towards Harry, needing to hold him, to take away whatever hurt him. The floorboards creak under his feet and Harry holds up one hand.

“Don’t…” he mutters and Draco freezes, his breath caught in his throat. “I had a visit from your father today…” Harry’s voice cracks through the silence and Draco feels his chest tighten. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Did you?” Draco asks, his voice sounding weird. He can’t take his eyes off Harry, his hair a mess, his shoulders slumped, his hands folded in his lap. The orange light of dusk floods the room, and Draco can just about see the dark spots where he thinks Harry has been crying. Fuck. His father did this.

“Yes.” Harry’s doesn’t look at Draco and Draco is almost scared to ask. But he needs to know.

“What did he say?” Draco takes another step towards Harry, pulled towards him like a magnet. Harry turns and looks at him then, his green eyes shining with unshed tears, his face sombre. Draco reaches out and Harry stands, taking a step back, away from Draco’s reach.

“He had some interesting things to say about your child. The fucking Malfoy heir,” Harry spits and Draco can feel the blood drain from his face. He brings his hands down and clenches them at his side, forcing himself not to go near Harry. Not to touch him when he’s this angry.

“What…” Draco starts and Harry takes a step forward, vibrating with magic and energy and anger.

“He said that you were engaged to Astoria Greengrass. And that you two were going to have the next Malfoy heir,” Harry’s voice is too low and Draco twitches, frozen, not sure what to do.

“He…” Draco’s mouth is dry. Harry gets closer, his eyes flicking over Draco’s face behind his glasses.

“Is it true?” Harry asks and Draco holds his arms out, needing to touch Harry, to make him see. Harry who is so strong, who can fix anything.

“Harry… I…” Draco holds his hand out, almost touching Harry’s hand and Harry slaps it away, pushing past Draco into the centre of the room, his hands carding through his hair. Draco tries to breathe. Tries to think.

“It is! It’s fucking true! You’re just going to go and marry some pure-blood bitch and have your fucking Malfoy heir and what? I’m going to be your piece on the side, is that it?” Harry shouts, his shoulders squaring. Draco shakes his head, panic running through him. This isn’t good. This isn’t right. Harry needs to help him fix this.

“No… Harry…” Draco can feel the begging tone in his voice but Harry steps away, his lip curling.

“You’re going to fuck her are you Draco? That’s how straight people have babies. You’re going to fuck Astoria Greengrass?” Harry’s words are flooded with venom and Draco takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He’s an Auror. He can fix this. They can fix this.

“Harry, stop!” Draco shouts, his voice deep and Harry stares at him, his chest heaving, “I don’t want this. I don’t want her to have my baby. Our baby.”

“Then why is she?” Harry raises one eyebrow, “Why don’t you tell your fucking parents that it isn’t going to happen?”

“I’m trying, Harry…” Draco growls, his heart pounding in his chest. This isn’t right.

“No you’re not! How hard is it to say ‘No, dad, I’m having a kid with Harry’?” Harry looks furious, the power radiating off him and Draco knows this is what it is to be on the wrong side of Harry.

“I tried that! I’ve tried! But I just…” Draco falters. He has tried. He…

“You’ve walked up to your dad and said the exact words ‘Father, I am not marrying Astoria fucking Greengrass. I am going to have a child with Harry Potter. If you don’t like it, that’s your problem’?” Harry sounds like he’s trying to be sarcastic, but the anger seeps into it. Draco freezes and Harry stares at him. “I thought not.”

“Harry…” Draco feels himself plead.

“No.” Harry shakes his head and Draco’s stomach drops. No. No. No… this doesn’t work.

“You don’t understand… he’s my father… I can’t just… I can’t let him down…” Draco stutters, possibly for the first time in his life. He feels sick, his stomach churning, his heart pounding, his head feeling fuzzy.

“Then don’t, Malfoy,” Harry stands tall and Draco tries to reach out “Don’t disappoint your dear father, who’s been so fucking good to you. Go have your pure-blood heir. But don’t for one fucking second think of dragging me into it. I won’t be your dirty little secret.” Harry’s eyes are on fire as he turns, walking out of the bedroom. He pauses at the door and Draco feels his heart jump, his feet moving towards Harry automatically. “If you’re going to go through with this, I want you out of the house by the time I get home.”

Draco doesn’t let the tears fall until he hears the floo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading!


	41. In Which Harry Won’t Leave The House And Ron Gives Him Some Harsh Truths

“I think you need to leave the house mate,” Ron leans against the doorframe with a bottle in his hand, looking at Harry with those piercing eyes. Harry shrugs and goes back to staring at the ceiling. At least the ceiling doesn’t say stupid things about him leaving the house. And the ceiling doesn’t plan to have children with another person. And the ceiling doesn’t have a wanker as a father.

“How’s he doing?” Harry hears Hermione whisper to Ron and Ron snorts.

“He’s comparing the ceiling to Malfoy again,” Ron doesn’t bother to whisper and Harry raises his head and frowns.

“How can you possibly know that that’s what I’m doing?” Harry snaps. Hermione raises her eyebrows and leaves as Ron moves into the room, holding the bottle of firewhiskey out to Harry. Harry sits up and leans against the head board, taking the bottle gratefully and taking a large swig.

“Because I’ve lived with you since we were eleven. I could write a book on what I know about you.” Ron sits on the bed next to Harry, close enough that Harry can smell the earthy smell of Ron. “Actually that might not be a bad idea. Imagine how much money we’d make.” Harry snorts and takes another swig of firewhiskey, the burn making his eyes water. 

“Enough that we’d never have to work again,” Harry mutters and Ron scoff, the loud snort vibrating through Harry.

“Like you’d ever be able to not work,” Ron shuffles on the bed, lying down with his long legs stretched out and his arms behind his head, eyes closed. His feet hang off the end and Harry wonders how he’s never noticed that Ron’s feet do that.

“Not working would mean I’d never have to see Draco ever again,” Harry sighs, taking another swig from the bottle, his toes starting to go numb.

“True,” Ron says, his eyes still closed, “And you’d never have to drink that shit they call coffee ever again.” Harry sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

“I’d never have to listen to Robards moaning about the lack of paperwork we’ve done,” Harry adds and Ron grins, his nose crinkling slightly.

“You’d never have to go to St Mungo’s because you’d been too busy sending a shield charm to protect me rather than having your own back,” Ron counters. “Actually, I’d never have to have your back because you’re not paying attention to looking after yourself.” He add after a moment and Harry feels his lips twitch into a smile.

“You’d never have to run into a building full of maniacs because you’d probably be partnered with someone who was sensible enough to wait for backup,” Harry grins.

“I’d never have to call for backup because they wouldn’t give me the difficult cases because my new partner wouldn’t have saved the fucking wizarding world from a nutter!” Ron shouts, his voice deep and rumbly, “And that’s presuming that I carry on working even though I’d written the world first no-holds-barred biography of the Saviour of the Wizarding World.”

“True! Imagine how easy our lives would be,” Harry laughs and he glances over at his best friend, lying on his bed, heavy and warm. Harry’s heart lurches as he realises he wishes it were someone else. He tips the bottle to his mouth and cough, the tears stinging his eyes. After a moment Ron opens his eyes and looks at Harry.

“Or, you could just go back to work,” Ron’s voice is smooth and even and Harry’s neck spasms as his head whips round to glare at him. Ron gives him a half smile, “you never did like things easy.” Harry groans and thumps his head against the wall, bringing the bottle to his lips, his head feeling slightly fuzzy.

“I can’t Ron… I can’t see him…” Harry chokes and he feels a nudge in his leg. He glances down, tears welling in the corners of his eyes and sees Ron giving him a wan smile.

“We could always blindfold you?” Ron pulls a face and Harry chuckles despite himself, his chest aching and his stomach. Harry leans back, his mind flashing with images of Draco laughing, Draco in his bed, Draco at work, strong and competent and his and the tears start to fall down his cheek. Fucking tears. He angrily brushes them away and feels Ron shuffle to sit next to him.

“I don’t know whether I want to punch him or beg him to come back…” Harry whispers, taking another swig of firewhiskey, “I know it’s pathetic but I didn’t really think he’d leave. I thought he’d just go and tell his fucking dad to shove it, but he didn’t. He left. I defeated Lord fucking Voldemort, and Draco Malfoy has me crying in a ball in bed. How pathetic is that? That’s why I can’t see him....” Ron nods next to him.

“I’m sorry mate, Hermione is better at the sentimental stuff. But, y’know, we all knew that Voldemort was an evil wanker. Malfoy… well he’s a dick, but he isn’t evil. Hermione would say that that’s why it hurts more when he does shitty things.” Ron bumps Harry’s shoulder and Harry nods, his head swimming, his fingers trembling. He closes his eyes, trying not to think about Draco, feeling Ron’s eyes on him. “You really can’t go to work?” Ron asks after a moment.

“I really can’t,” Harry mumbles and he feels Ron sigh and lean back against the headboard.

“Well it’s a good thing I flooed Robards and told him you were ill then, huh?” Harry opens his eyes and looks at his smirking best friend, his heart thumping in his chest. Fuck, he really has the best best friend. Ron gives him a wink and closes his eyes.

“Cheers,” Harry says and Ron shrugs.

“Whatever, I thought you could do with some time… just… could you do me a favour?”

“Sure…” Harry asks warily. Ron’s mouth stretches into a wide smile and he snuggles his butt down into the bed, reaching for the firewhiskey.

“Could you at least get a shower and open a window in here? You bloody stink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading!


	42. In Which Draco Won’t Answer The Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I promised two parts yesterday and didn't deliver, so here are two parts today!

“What the fuck are you doing, Draco?” Blaise frowns elegantly and Draco groans, reaching for his drink. His head pounds slightly from the night before and his stomach swirls. He tips his head back, letting the amber liquid slide down his throat before putting the empty glass down on the table with a thunk. 

“I’m getting pissed, Blaise.” Draco waves his wand and refills his glass from the crystal decanter he’s stolen from his dad’s study, “Won’t you join me?” Draco summons another glass from the sideboard and Blaise raises one eyebrow before leaning forward and pouring himself a drink. Draco nods and goes back to rubbing his temples, his glass in his hand.

“Does Theo know you have this?” Blaise takes a sip and Draco rolls his eyes, his head spinning slightly as he takes a large gulp from his glass.

“Of course he knows. Where do you think half of my father’s whiskey goes?” Draco drawls, his voice sticking in his throat as he thinks about his father. He downs the rest of his whiskey, the now familiar numbness taking over his body. Blaise leans back in the armchair he’s sat in, his body long and lean and Draco closes his eyes as memories start to slide through his mind. That’s all he needs.

They sit in silence, Draco filling his glass and drinking too quickly, and Blaise studying him with sharp, dark eyes. There’s no sound in the room and Draco knows he should say something. If he doesn’t then Blaise will ask him what’s he’s doing again and Draco doesn’t have an answer to that. Not one that doesn’t make him feel sick anyway.

“Have you seen Theo recently?” Draco asks and Blaise makes a noise that’s as close to a snort as he would ever get.

“That was a pathetic attempt at changing the conversation. You know I saw Theo last night.” Draco hears Blaise shuffle and opens his eyes to look at the man opposite him. Blaise has one eyebrow raised, looking bored and perfectly put together. As always. “So now that awkward attempt is over, what the fuck are you doing?” Blaise’s voice doesn’t give away how frustrated he is, but Draco’s known him for years. He can see the twitch in the corner of his mouth as he tries not to snarl, the way his eyes shimmer. Well… fuck him.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Draco summons the decanter and fills his glass to the brim.

“It looks like you’re do what you always do, ruining your life because of what your father wants,” Blaise puts his glass down and Draco thinks about standing up and punching him.

“Still on about that are we Blaise? It’s been years, I would have thought you were over it by now,” Draco bites, his head swimming, knowing that he’s being ridiculous and cruel. Blaise sneers at him but doesn’t move. Fuck.

“How’s that mark on your arm? Still keeping you awake at night?” Blaise spits before composing himself. Draco marvels at how easily Blaise can go from furious to indifferent in seconds. He’s almost as good as any Malfoy. 

“Fuck you,” Draco snaps back and Blaise leans back, crossing one long leg over the other.

“No thank you, I don’t have affairs with taken men,” he picks an imaginary piece of fluff off his trousers and Draco feels his heart tighten. He’s a taken man. Of course he fucking is… the invites to his wedding are currently being printed.

“Astoria doesn’t care who I sleep with, as long as I’m… discreet,” Draco mumbles, his hands shaking. He feels sick. He takes a deep breath to calm himself, willing the tears to stay away before taking a large gulp of whiskey.

“I’m sure she doesn’t, but I was actually talking about Potter,” Blaise says and Draco shivers at the intensity of his gaze. Fucking Blaise.

“I am no longer taken by Ha – Potter,” Draco knows he sounds grumpy, bitter, but he’s had too much whiskey to control what he says. Maybe if he carries on he’ll be drunk enough by lunch that his mother and father won’t expect him to join them. That’s an idea.

“Indeed,” Blaise’s voice is short and Draco frowns at him. Arrogant twat. “So I ask again. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Will you stop fucking asking that!” Draco shouts, standing up, whiskey sloshing over his hand. His heart is pounding and Blaise is looking at him, and why the fuck should Draco have to answer to him anyway! He doesn’t know what it’s like! Draco’s legs wobble a little under him and he glares at Blaise, watching as the other man doesn’t move. Fine. Draco doesn’t need his help. He finishes his glass and slams it on the table.

“I’ll stop asking when you give me a satisfactory answer,” Blaise drawls. He’s too smooth. Draco used to be that smooth. And then Harry fucking Potter came along. With his messy hair and his green eyes and his crooked smile and his jumpers lying all over the floor. 

Harry made him rough and messy. It’s all Harry’s fault.

“I’m doing… I’m doing what I should have done from the start!” Draco stumbles towards the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room. He needs wine. Wine is nice.

“What? Doing what daddy tells you to do like a coward? Yes, Draco, that is absolutely what you should have done from that start,” Blaise’s voice drips with sarcasm and Draco growls.

“I’m not a fucking coward! This is what I’m meant to do, this is my fucking duty!” Draco shouts, clenching his fists together and Blaise stands up, moving towards him languidly.

“You duty is to give up the only person that’s made you truly happy?” Blaise is so close to Draco that Draco can smell him, expensive and rich and the opposite of Harry. 

“Yes,” Draco coughs, his voice sticking in his throat.

“Really?” Blaise raises an eyebrow.

“Yes…” Draco feels his shoulders slump. He feels a hand on his shoulder and he looks up into Blaise’s eyes. “Yes?” His voice is shaky and Blaise sighs, giving Draco’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Oh, Draco… what the fuck are you doing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading


	43. In Which Harry Gets A Visit From Theo Nott

“What are you doing here?” 

“I could answer with some sort of witty retort, Granger, but we both know there’s no point. Fancy letting me in?” 

“You think you can get him to leave the house where Ron and I have failed?”

“Nah! Not a chance. But I figure anyone’s going to explain The Tosser it might as well be me.”

“The Tosser?”

“Can think of a nicer thing to call him, can you?”

There’s a pause and Harry thinks maybe Hermione has sent Theo away. But then the door shuts and he hears two pairs of feet on the stairs. His door opens and he hears Hermione whisper something before the door creaks shut.

“What do you want Theo?” Harry mutters into his pillow. He feels the bed dip and hears the soft crack of a screw lid being opened. Harry turns in the bed and Theo smiles at him sadly before handing over the bottle of whiskey. Muggle whiskey. Really good, expensive muggle whiskey.

“Play nice Potter, I bought you a bottle from my private reserve.” Theo wiggles the bottle slightly and Harry sits up and takes the bottle.

“I thought private reserves were only for wines,” Harry mumbles and Theo laughs. It's a nice laugh, sort of warm and round. He obviously didn't laugh much at Hogwarts, Harry would remember that laugh. He hands the bottle back to Theo and Theo takes a swig. Harry watches as his Adam's apple bounces and feels a lump in his throat, images of Draco's long neck, smooth and pale and beautiful, washing through his mind. He takes the bottle back from Theo, letting the burn of the whiskey wash the thoughts away.

“Granger's looking good. She hasn't got any sisters has she?” Theo grins at Harry and Harry feels a bubble of something like laughter in his stomach. He shakes his head and Theo shrugs. “Oh well. Maybe she'll divorce Weasley.” Harry frowns at him and he gives Harry a wink. They sit for a moment in silence, passing the bottle between the two of them, Harry's head quickly getting fuzzy, his heart aching a little less.

“Do all Slytherins wear the same aftershave?” Harry asks as Theo leans over him to reach Harry's wand, giving Harry a whiff of something expensive that he recognises. His stomach clenches and tears prick at the back of his eyes. Theo takes the bottle from Harry and uses Harry's wand to re-seal it. He looks at Harry carefully and Harry takes a deep shaky breath. He will not cry in front of Theo. Draco would hear about it the second Theo left.

“Christmas present from Blaise. The man is unoriginal but has very good taste,” Theo smiles slightly, still staring at Harry. Harry tries to think of a place to put this new information. Draco wears aftershave that Blaise bought him as a Christmas present. It's endearing, but then so is everything's Draco does, which is probably something to do with Harry being in love with the man. Prick. Harry sighs.

“It's nice. Draco...” Harry murmurs and Theo nods, his eyes still on Harry. Harry thinks about asking for more whiskey, but it seems Theo is being sensible and Harry doubts he'd get the bottle back. Ron would have given him the whole bottle to himself. Ron's a good friend. Mind you, Ron wouldn't have brought stupidly expensive whiskey.

“They dated once,” Theo says and for a second Harry thinks he's talking about Ron. His eyes widen as he realises Theo meant Draco and Blaise. His pulse picks up slightly at the thought.

“But... When?” Harry frowns and Theo pauses, thinking about it. Harry tugs at the duvet, pulling it higher up his body. For a moment he hopes that Theo hasn't noticed that he's wearing one of Draco's t-shirts, but Theo seems to know a lot more about Draco than Harry thought, so he probably has. Just another thing that Draco will hear about when Theo leaves. Maybe that's why Theo is here. Maybe Draco sent him to spy on Harry. Harry frowns at himself. No, Draco wouldn't do that. Draco doesn't care about Harry.

“Just after we left school, around about the time that he realised he didn't like women.” Theo's voice is soft and Harry jumps, so lost in thought that he almost forgot that he'd asked Theo a question.

“What happened?” Harry asks, his head pounding, his chest tight. Maybe he shouldn't have asked. Maybe if he hadn't had whiskey he wouldn't have.

“The same thing that always happens with Draco. He did what his father wanted him to do.” Theo smiles and uses Harry’s wand to create a small spark, “Lucius wants an heir. A pureblood heir from two pureblood parents. Two straight pure blood parents. And Blaise missed out on both of those criteria, so Draco broke it off.“ Theo shrugs and Harry watches him. Maybe it wasn’t that serious. Maybe Draco didn’t really care about Blaise. Maybe he just doesn’t really care about Harry.

“Was Draco upset?” Harry whispers and Theo grunts.

“No, not really. I mean, he was pissed off with himself, for going along with what his father wants, AGAIN, but he didn’t love Blaise. It was more experimentation I think. Y’know, figuring out if he did actually like men. Nothing worth upsetting Lucius over.” Theo huffs, sounding vaguely amused “Blaise was more upset about it than Draco.” Harry’s eyes widen and Theo laughs, his proper warm laugh, “No one leaves a Zabini. He’d have been pissed if anyone had left him.” Harry nods, his mind whirring. Blaise and Draco.

“Does Blaise still...” Harry can't bring himself to ask the questions but judging by the look Theo gives him, he doesn't need to.

“You've met Blaise, Potter. Does it look like that man cries over anyone.” It's not a questions and Harry nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. They sit in silence, Harry mulling over the new information, Theo fiddling with Harry's wand as if it were his own. Harry probably should care but he doesn't think Theo would do anything to hurt him. It would take too much effort.

“And... And Draco?” Harry asks finally. Theo looks at him for a long time, his blue eyes piercing into Harry. If Harry had had less to drink he would have steeled himself against it.

“There is only one person in this world that Draco wants,” Theo says, his voice suddenly deep and serious. Harry nods, his heart jumping. One person. One. Astoria. That's who Draco wants. She can give him an heir, a proper one, one raised by... Harry nods again and Theo sighs. “I've gotta be going Potter. You're not the only one in need of a strong drink.” Theo places Harry's wand on the bedside table and picks up his bottle. Harry watches as he walks towards the door.

“Theo!” Harry suddenly says and Theo turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised, “that one person... Is that... Is it... Who is it?” Harry stumbles over his words and Theo gives him a sad smile.

“Why don't you go to work and see Draco yourself. You're a smart man, Harry, you can figure it out.” And with that he leaves. Harry stares at the space he'd been. Maybe he's right. Maybe it's time to see Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thank you for reading!


	44. In Which Draco Hates The Daily Prophet

Draco frowns as he looks at the newspaper, the headline shouting out at him, the photo of him and Astoria playing on a loop. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong. He hears the door to the dining room open and schools his features into one of blank indifference. He’s getting better at doing that. Like riding a broom.

Astoria sweeps into the room, her head held high, almost a perfect mimic of his mother. Almost. She doesn’t quite have the look of boredom right. Yet. Draco looks back at the paper, pretending to read the article. He can’t quite bring himself to do it. It’s not going to say good things about him. The man who broke Harry Potter’s heart. Fuck.

“Oh, the paper, may I have a look Draco darling?” Astoria asks and Draco nods, his neck hurting as he keeps himself from ripping the paper to shreds. He hands the paper to her and she takes it, her hand stroking against Draco’s in a way that he supposes should be seductive. It’s almost as if she’s forgotten what their arrangement is. Draco takes a deep breath and counts to three in his head, calming his heart.

He glances at the clock on the wall. Ten o’clock. It’s probably too early to have a drink. And his mother and father will be down to breakfast any minute, so he can’t even have a quick one without them noticing.

“Oh look darling,” Astoria coos and Draco bites his tongue to stop from snapping at her to stop calling him ‘darling’, “We made the front page!” She holds the paper up to show Draco, and Draco picks up his tea. He knows they made the front page. He was just looking at it. It seems as though Astoria has missed the headline.

“Indeed,” Draco drawls, pleased that he sounds indifferent rather than broken. Astoria turns to look at the picture again and Draco feels his stomach swirl. Perhaps he could convince a house-elf to bring him a coffee with a large shot of whiskey in it. He still has a little left from the bottle Theo bought over.

“I wish they’d used a photo of us when we were in the restaurant, it would have looked so much more romantic…” Astoria babbles and Draco bites his tongue harder, the sweet taste of blood filling his mouth. He takes a sip of his tea, feeling the sting. “And they could have been a little more focused on us rather than Harry Potter…” Astoria’s voice is small and Draco knows she’s annoyed. His mother will be annoyed too. But what did they expect? He was with Harry. Very much so. And now he’s with Astoria and Harry hasn’t left his house. At least that’s what Theo tells him. Not that he’s been paying attention.

He absolutely hasn’t.

The door opens and his father marches in, quietly followed by his mother. He doesn’t bother to look at them. They won’t be smiling at him. Not like Harry in the mornings, walking into the kitchen with his hair sticking in every direction, his eyes bleary behind his glasses, his hand reaching for tea or coffee or something to wake him up. It’s not worth looking at anything if it isn’t looking at that.

“Miss Greengrass, so good of you to join us for breakfast,” his father’s voice is full of slimy condescension. Astoria smiles at him and nods her head, ready to play perfect pure-blood housewife. Draco supresses a shudder and picks up his knife to butter his toast. His father sits down next to him and places a large stack of papers at his elbow. Draco raises one eyebrow at them and continues to butter his toast.

“Have you seen the paper?” Astoria asks his mother and she looks at her future daughter-in-law witheringly, but takes the paper from Astoria’s outstretched hands. Draco watches as his mother’s eyes flicker over the picture and the text. She probably won’t be pleased. Not enough said about the two of them. Too much said about Harry.

“Lucius, perhaps you would write to the Prophet and have them write a more favourable article about Miss Greengrass and Draco,” his mother’s voice is smooth and clear and Draco knows she’s annoyed. Astoria looks pleased next to her and Draco holds back the groan. Maybe he can’t do this. Maybe he should just leave and go back to Harry. 

“Yes, of course,” his father glances at the paper and sneers before turning his grey eyes to Draco, “after breakfast we should start to look over the Malfoy estate. There’s lots that has been changed since you decided to take a career, and when you leave you will be expected to take over running the family businesses.” Draco clenches his hands as his heart pounds.

“Father, I am not leaving my job. I like my job. I have already agreed…” Draco takes a deep breath, steading his heart, “I am not taking over the Malfoy estate until you are unable to do so.” His hands are clammy and his mind fuzzy. If he doesn’t go to work he’d never see… No. He’s not giving up his work.

“Draco…” His father’s voice is deep and warning.

“Perhaps Draco can work as an Auror until the wedding. There’s no point in stopping him from pursuing a career that is doing well for our reputation,” his mother says, her eyes on Draco and Draco nods, watching as his father stares at his mother before waving his hand over the papers, a house-elf appearing and taking them away.

Draco looks at his mother and thinks he sees the twitch of a wink in her eye. Whatever he feels he can’t let her down. She lied to Voldemort for him. He looks at Astoria, his stomach twisting. He can do this for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading!


	45. In Which Harry Goes To Work And It’s A Terrible Idea

Today has been unbearable. It would have been unbearable if Harry and Ron didn't have the cubicle next to Draco. But they do, and Harry has been on edge all day waiting for Draco to get back from his latest case. Harry jumps as Ron comes and puts a mug of tea next to him. Ron claps him in the shoulder, rubbing slightly before sitting down.

“Want to go over this case again?” Ron asks, his voice low and soft and Harry nods, taking a sip of his tea. It's sweet and soothing and instantly makes Harry think of Draco. Fuck. Ron gives him a sympathetic look and grabs Harry's chair to pull it closer. 

“Why did I come back to work?” Harry whispers to Ron, running his hand through his hair.

“Theo Nott suggested it,” Ron doesn't look up from the file, “because Theo Nott is a bloody idiot. But then again, you've been off for over a week and the papers won’t ever die down, so it is probably time. Robards can only let you off for so long.” Ron straightens and grimaces. Harry knows he's right. It doesn't make it easier.

“Ok. Tell me about the case,” Harry shakes himself slightly, forcing his brain to focus. Ron stares at him for a moment, his blue eyes piercing into Harry, before twisting the file so that Harry can see it.

“We've got fifteen people at St. Mungo's with their stomachs disintegrating because of this new love potion that's going around. George says it's definitely not a normal love potion, and that he can't think of any reputable shops that would sell something that they didn't either make themselves or know exactly what's in it...” Ron leans back, his eyebrows drawn.

“Doesn't sound good...” Harry sighs, taking the file out of Ron's hands, “maybe we should start by...” He trails off as Ron freezes, his eyes pinned to the door.

It's noisy in the Auror department, but Harry had years listening for Voldemort, years as an Auror, and what seems like a lifetime for waiting for Draco to appear. His ears know that soft tap of expensive Italian leather. Knows it like he knows the soft sounds of breathing in the morning. The low moans drawn out late at night. 

“Hey Harry! Ron!” Terry calls brightly and Harry winces. Now he's going to have to turn around. Ron glances at him before grinning at Terry. 

“Hey! How'd the raid go?” Ron asks and Harry takes a deep breath, his heart hammering, before turning in his chair.

His breath catches in his throat and tears sting his eyes as they land instantly on Draco. He looks gorgeous, his hair dishevelled, his cheeks flushed, his robes in his arms, wearing a shirt that should be illegal. Harry's eyes run over him before landing on Draco's eyes. And then Harry's heart stops and his stomach clenches painfully.

Draco looks broken. There's something in his eyes, something beyond sadness. If Harry hadn't known him, hadn't seen him curled in a ball in bed, screaming from the nightmares then he might not have known. But Harry knows Draco. So he does. And knowing that Draco is broken kills. Harry blinks. Fucking Lucius Malfoy. 

And then in a flicker Draco’s eyes steel, he stands taller, smirking at something Terry has said, before folding himself gracefully into his chair. Right. That's how it's going. Harry swallows and turns to Terry, blocking out all thoughts of Draco.

"And then Malfoy got a stinging hex to his back," Terry grimaces and Ron makes a hissing noise. Harry's head whips to Draco, who shrugs, not meeting his eyes.

"A stinging hex?" Ron scoffs, "they couldn't think of anything worse?"

"They were just teenagers," Draco drawls, "they didn't want to do anything more than scare us away. They didn’t want to hurt us." He runs his long fingers through his hair, the one lock flopping back into his eyes and Harry's fingers twitch. He wants to push that hair back, to kiss Draco's lips, to feel those fingers stroking along his skin, wrapped around him, pumping inside him. Fuck he'd settle for them poking him in the eye at this point. He just needs to touch him.

"Not that they would have been able to." Terry smiles at his partner and Draco smiles back, a warm smile that makes his eyes dance and Harry feel sick.

"I... Uh..." He stutters and stands up, moving too quickly and almost tripping over his own feet. Ron catches his elbow and looks him in the eye, instantly understanding.

"Yeah, right..." He straightens Harry and turns to Terry and Draco, "we have to go speak to someone in the Lab. See you later." Harry waves slightly as Ron pushes him towards the door and away from the love of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading!


	46. In Which Draco Goes Back To Filling Out Request Forms

Friday used to be the best day of the week, Draco muses to himself as he glances at the clock on the wall in the Aurors’ office. Back when he had a boyfriend who he could spend the night with. And a home he could go back to that wasn’t the Manor. There are still whole corridors he avoids.

Draco takes a deep breath and pulls a pensieve request form from the top drawer of his desk. The smell of soap and the outside assaults him and he finds his gaze slipping sideways to where Harry is leaning back in his chair, chewing the end of a self-filling quill. He looks exhausted and Draco feels his fingers twitch at the need to pull him close, to run his fingers through his hair and calm him down.

But he can’t. That’s not his job any more.

Draco stares at the form in front of him. Of course he has to fill in a fucking form for use of a pensieve. He isn’t dating Harry any more. He’s back to being the dirty ex-Death Eater. Except now he’s the dirty ex-Death Eater who broke Harry Potter’s heart.

Oh how great it is to be him.

“How you doing Malfoy?” Boot asks him and Draco give him a wan smile, gesturing to the form. Boot nods and scratches at his hair. “Yeah… those suck. I think I’m all done here… you ok if I head home?” Draco nods and Boot stands up, picking up a cloak before heading out of the room. Of course, Draco wouldn’t have to be there if Boot just went and asked for the pensieve. Draco pushes his hair out of his face and turns back to the form. At least if he’s working he doesn’t have to go back to the Manor.

“You almost finished?” a soft voice from the cubicle next to his makes him sit slightly straighter. Weasley and Harry. He’s been doing so well at ignoring them, at trying not to look at Harry, knowing that he’ll see that shine of sadness in his eyes. Draco can’t look at that.

“Almost. I’ll need you to sign off on this and then we can go.” Harry’s voice is deep and cracked, like he’s ill or tired or… Draco frowns to himself. Harry shouldn’t sound like that. He hears the scratch of Harry’s quill and closes his eyes, imagining his strong fingers, his scrawl of writing, his tongue sticking out slightly as he concentrates. Fuck. Draco takes a deep breath and pushes the thoughts out of his mind. He doesn’t need to be thinking about that. There’s no point in torturing himself.

“Done,” Weasley declares and Draco knows what’s coming.

“Me too… sign here and then pub.” the sound of them switching papers, working in complete sync, washes over Draco and he feels his heart ache. He used to be a part of that. He used to finish his paperwork on a Friday night and go with them, Harry’s hand brushing against his until they were settled in the warmth of the Leaky, where Draco would wrap his arm around Harry’s waist and pull him close.

Draco scowls at himself. No… Stop.

There’s a shuffle and Draco glances at the two men standing up. Harry takes his robe off and hangs it over the back of his chair, his t-shirt clinging to his chest muscles, his arm muscles rippling as he stretches. Draco finishes the form and puts his quill down, cracking his knuckles and sinking into his seat, rubbing his temples. The last thing he needs to do is watch Harry stretch.

He knows Weasley is looking at him. Weasley looks at him every evening when he and Harry leave to go home. It’s the same look every day. Like he’s trying to figure something out, and he can’t quite put his finger on it. Draco swallows the lump in his throat. In the past Draco would have scoffed at the thought of a Weasley thinking, but he knows Weasley, and knowing him he’ll figure out whatever it is he’s looking for eventually.

“Ready?” Harry asks and Weasley must nod, because he hears the squeak of Harry’s converse on the tiles as he walks away.

“See you, Malfoy,” Weasley mutters and Draco opens his eyes to see Weasley give him a wry smile before following Harry out of the room. Draco ignores the churning in his stomach as he watches Harry’s back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading!


	47. In Which Harry And Ginny Fight

“Come on…” Ginny stomps up to where Harry is sat in a transfigured chair in the Weasley’s garden. “We’re going to play some Quidditch…” She leans forward and grabs Harry’s hand and for a moment he thinks about arguing with her, but there really isn’t any point. She leads him to the shed and picks up her new broom, chucking her old one at Harry. It isn’t quite his Firebolt, but he tries not to dwell on that. He really should buy himself a new broom.

“You know that you play international Quidditch as a job, right?” Harry asks as she leads him up the hill to their field. She rolls her eyes at him and he grins, his heart hammering. Fuck he loves flying. He should fly more. He hasn’t flown since… 

“Exactly, Harry… I need the practice!” she links her arm through his and he leans into her slightly, feeling the heat and soft curves of her. It’s warming, and comfortable and safe. And he misses Draco. He misses the hard planes of muscle pressed against him, the long, lithe legs, the withering glances. Although Ginny is pretty good at withering glances.

“We should get a game going…” Harry glances at Ginny as she stills for a moment before striding forwards, practically dragging Harry up the hill.

“Oh! Uh… yeah, Ron’s just rounding people up… but I thought we could warm up… um…” Ginny looks nervous and Harry can’t help but smile. Right, so someone sent her to talk to him. He slides his arm out of hers and takes her hand, linking their fingers together, and gives it a squeeze. She smiles at him, looking relieved.

They arrive in the field and Ginny grabs a ball to act as a quaffle. She kicks off into the air and Harry mounts his broom, following her. The wind rushes past him and his heart jumps into his throat. He takes a deep breath, feeling instantly calmer, his head light and his chest almost hurting. Fuck, he’s missed this. He really needs to fly more.

Ginny passes the ball to him and he catches it, chucking it back to her as they move around the field, slowly building up their speed. It slowly gets harder to catch the passes that Ginny throws him, and Harry laughs as Ginny gets a determined look on her face. It’s seriously impressive when she’s like this. Harry grabs the ball and throws it high, watching as she swoops up and grabs it before lobbing it towards the hoop at the end of the pitch.

Harry flies down to pick the ball up from the floor, adrenalin running through him. This is nice. Not thinking.

“So… we going to talk about him at all?” Ginny’s voice behind him makes him jump and he scowls at her. She puts one hand on her hip, her chest rising steadily as she catches her breath. Harry’s stomach clenches and he hands her the ball, kicking off into the air, chasing the empty feeling he gets when he flies. A thump on his back reminds him that he’s flying with Ginny. He stops and watches her move towards him, determined and graceful.

“I can’t Gin,” he mutters, glancing at her hovering next to him. She nods, before placing a hand on his arm.

“You need to,” her voice is so soft that Harry’s head whips up. He’s never heard her talk that softly before. Not about something like this. She gives him an encouraging smile and he sighs, tears pricking at his eyes.

“He chose his father over me, Gin… he…” Harry’s breath comes out ragged and he grips his broom harder, “he can’t have loved me. He would never have done this if he had.”

“Oh, Harry… we both know that’s not true!” Ginny’s voice is back to a normal register and Harry feels his heart pound in his fingertips. Arguing with Ginny. Good. He can do that.

“But it is! He was going to go off and marry Astoria, and what? Have me on the side? Like I’m something he’s ashamed of? How could you do that to someone you love?” Harry could feel the words flying from his lips, angry and hurt and Ginny shakes her head, her hair flicking around her face.

“He was never ashamed of you, Harry. He just… it’s his dad. He became a Death Eater for his dad! You think that sort of loyalty just goes away?” Ginny’s voice gets louder and Harry watches as her eyes light up. He growls, a low, guttural growl.

“What about loyalty to me? Why didn’t he fight for me? I was his… we were…” Harry screams and twists his broom around pelting down to the ground, the wind rushing through his hair, whistling in his ears.

He lands on the ground with a thump and is almost immediately knocked over by Ginny flying into him. He groans and shuffles to stand up as she chucks her broom on the ground and stalks towards him, her eyes wild, her jaw strong and set.

“You’re a fucking twat, Harry Potter, if you think for one moment that Draco didn’t love you, doesn’t love you. You want to talk about fucking loyalty? Where was yours when his dad was standing there telling you that it wasn’t going to be your child? Where was your fight when he couldn’t do anything but do what his fucking father wanted?” Ginny pushes him in the chest, the pain stabbing through him as his mind whirs and tears roll down his cheeks. “Huh?” Ginny spits and shoves at him again and he grabs her hand, pulling her close to him, needing to feel someone close to him, needing someone to love him.

Ginny wraps her arms around him, pulling him close as he sobs into her shoulder, his shoulders shaking, his hands clenched in her jumper, his whole body feeling like it’s going to break.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore, Gin… I can’t…” Harry wails into her shoulder as she runs her hand through his hair, calming him down.

“I know sweetheart… but that’s the deal with love. You don’t just turn it off…” She breathes and Harry nods, holding her tighter, grateful and tired and broken and fucking in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading!


	48. In Which Draco Has A Visitor Who Is Definitely Unnerving

“So you still love Harry,” Weasley states as he steps through the floo at the Manor. Draco frowns, the horrible sense of déjà vu washing through him as his heart pounds and his head feels light, wondering how Weasley managed to get through the wards. Weasley looks at him for a moment, his eyes shining before moving past Draco and flopping down on one of the chairs in the parlour.

“Oh?” Draco schools his features and turns to Weasley, one eyebrow raised. Weasley stares at him with piercing eyes, completely unimpressed.

“Oh?” Weasley repeats, rolling his eyes, “Bloody hell Malfoy, five minutes back in this hell hole…” he sighs deeply and Draco feels the irritation rise in his chest. He moves across to where Weasley is sprawled and crosses his arms over his chest, looking down his nose at the man with as much disdain as he can manage.

“Why are you here?” Draco sneers, ignoring the way that Weasley’s lips twitch at the corners, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Fuck… Weasley knows him too well.

“I’ve come for a friendly game of chess, Malfoy.” Weasley’s voice drips sarcasm and Draco groans, his hands twitching to run through hair. Weasley watches him for a moment before moving suddenly, standing so close to Draco that he has to tilt his chin to look in Weasley’s eyes. Fuck, he didn’t remember how tall Weasley was. Weasley’s eyes flicker between Draco’s and Draco feels the heat rise in his neck. 

A noise in the hallway draws Draco’s attention and when he looks back at Weasley he can see the man looking between the door and Draco. He gives Draco a long stare and then nods once, taking a step back.

“You know… I fucking hate using a floo when I could just Apparate. Walk me down your ridiculous drive so that your dad doesn’t kill me.” It isn’t a question and Draco feels himself let go of a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. Yes… Weasley leaving is good. There’s much less chance of his father walking in on them if they’re leaving. Draco gestures for Weasley to follow him and leaves the room, ignoring the portraits as they glare at the flame red hair.

It’s surprisingly warm outside. Weasley doesn’t walk fast, because if he hasn’t for his entire life, being at the Manor wasn’t going to make him. Draco fights the smile playing on his lips at the once familiarity of walking with Weasley. With each step away from the Manor Draco feels his shoulders relax. Fuck, he hates it there.

“Why did you come here?” He asks after a moment, keeping his eyes ahead of him. He can feel Weasley staring at him. If he looks at Weasley there won’t be any way to hide. The man is a fucking genius at interrogation. 

“Because you two are being bloody idiots, and it’s stopped being funny.” Draco fights against the pounding in his chest, clenching his hands into fists to stop them from running through his hair, from giving anything away. He’s a fucking Malfoy. He can control his emotions.

“In what way am I an idiot Weasley?” he snarls, ignoring the chuckles from Weasley, keeping his back straight and his eyes ahead of him, the picture of calm indifference. Hopefully.

“There’s a fucking list mate. Literally. Harry wrote one about why you’re an idiot and then Ginny wrote one about why he’s an idiot and then Harry got grumpy with her and George charmed the list to shout the reasons whenever Harry was being a twat.” Draco glances at Weasley. Weasley waggles his eyebrows back, a large grin on his face and his eyes fucking sparkling. “It was fucking awesome.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Draco puts as much sarcasm as he can into his voice. Because it does. Not that Weasley can know that. He takes a deep breath and tries to push the image out of his mind. When he glances back at Weasley he sees the same piercing look that Weasley’s been giving him since he stepped through the floo.

“So you still love Harry,” Weasley says after a moment. Draco holds back the groan in his throat and makes sure he looks scathing as he glares at Weasley.

“Is that so?” he drawls, using every trick that he’s been taught since he could talk to sound completely bored. Weasley rolls his eyes and Draco’s heart starts beating faster. Fucking Weasley. Draco takes another deep breath, calming himself. They walk in silence for a moment, the gates at the edge of the estate looming ahead of them. They’ll be there soon, and then Weasley will be gone. And Draco will have to go back to the Manor and sit with a woman he doesn’t even like very much and listen to his father talk about his duties to the family.

For a moment Draco lets him imagine himself Apparating with Weasley. Maybe to the Burrow. Maybe Molly would be there to give him a hug. He gives himself a mental shake, ignoring the tug in his chest.

“Are you going to the Ministry ball next week?” Weasley asks when they arrive at the gates. Draco raises one eyebrow at him and crosses his arms over his chest.

“It’s a fundraising ball to raise money for the continued fight against the Dark Arts. Of course I’m going. It’s mandatory for Ministry employees.” Draco glares at Weasley, watching him nod, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“It’s ridiculous really. Like we need the money. I think Kingsley just had a load of bottles left from the Christmas ball and needed to use it up.” Weasley grins and Draco fights the laughter in his stomach. No. He doesn’t laugh at Weasleys anymore. He scowls at them with disdain. He schools his features and Weasley lets out a little huffing laugh.

“It’s a fundraiser Weasley. We are always in need of funds.” Draco breathes, keeping his eyes fixed on the spot next to Weasley’s eyes.

“Uh huh…” Weasley studies Draco’s face and he forces himself to stay on the spot. “Well Harry is giving a speech, so at least we have that to look forward to.”

“Indeed,” Draco is pleased how disinterested he sounds. They stand for a moment longer, Weasley’s eyes flicking over Draco’s face and Draco resolutely refusing to change his expression. After a moment Weasley moves, clapping Draco on the shoulder and giving him a sad smile.

“See you Malfoy. And remember… you’re both being idiots.” And with that Weasley Apparates, leaving Draco standing on his drive, shaking and confused and missing Harry more than he thought possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading!


	49. In Which Harry Can’t Argue With His Best Friends So there’s No Point Trying

“You need to get ready,” Hermione bustles into the room reminding Harry of Molly. He doesn’t need to get ready. He isn’t going. He’s already decided he isn’t going. He’s got the letter on his desk ready to send to Kingsley apologising for not being able to give the stupid speech. He’s not going.

“You know, you can keep sitting here, but she’s not going to stop,” Ron mutters as he flops down onto the sofa, crushing Harry’s feet. Harry groans and turns around to bury his face into the sofa, kicking Ron is the arse as he moves. He smiles to himself as Ron grunts before he feels Ron shuffle and get comfortable on his feet.

“You can grumble all you want,” Harry mumbles into the sofa, “I’m not going. I hate these fundraisers. I hate giving speeches. I hate being me…” he ignores Ron’s scoff from the end of the sofa and clenches his eyes shut, allowing the wave of melancholy to flow over him. Being him is crap. He’s single and alone and the love of his life is off having babies with some pure blood witch. Oh, and the whole Voldemort thing. That was fucked up too.

“Whatever, mate. What did you expect after literally dying for everyone? That they’d leave you alone?” Ron’s voice is light and Harry can hear the smile on his lips. He turns his head slightly to the side and glances at Ron over his shoulder. Ron raises one eyebrow at him and he grins back.

“It’s so fucking stupid. Like the Ministry needs money!” he turns to lean on one elbow.

“Yes! Thank you! I don’t fucking get it either,” Ron points at Harry, glaring at Hermione where she stands with her arms crossed on the other side of the room.

“It’s a fundraiser. We need money. Do you seriously think that every time you two blow something up it doesn’t cost anything?” Hermione’s eyebrow raises and Harry looks over at Ron, his lips twitching into a smile. After a moment Hermione must think she’s made her point because she sits down in the armchair.

“I think Kingsley had alcohol left from Christmas,” Harry mutter finally and Ron snorts with laughter.

“I’m with you there…” he slaps Harry on the leg affectionately and Hermione groans.

“It doesn’t matter why we’re having it. We are. So you need to get ready.” She looks pointedly at Harry and he rolls his eyes, moving to sit up. Ron grunts but ends up leaning against him, the weight and heat of Ron’s body making him feel oddly soothed.

“No I don’t, I’m not going.” He crosses his arms over his chest and Hermione glances at Ron before moving to sit on the other side of him, linking her fingers through his. He leans his head against her shoulder, letting the smell of her calm him down. He doesn’t need to be nervous about the ball. He’s not going.

“Harry…” Hermione whispers and he moves his head to gaze up at her, “why don’t you want to go to this fundraiser?” Well, fuck. They know. Of course they know. They’re his best friends in the world. They’re basically family. He shrugs looking down at their hands.

“Because… they’re boring. And full of people I don’t want to talk to. And they always expect me to give a speech…” He mutters, trying to keep the crack out of his voice.

“And?” Hermione prompts and he feels the heat rise in his cheeks.

“What do you mean ‘and’?” He cringes at the pathetic sound of his voice, the neediness of it. He’s Harry fucking Potter. He defeated Voldemort at 18. He can talk to his two best friends about why he doesn’t want to go to a fucking party.

“Come on, mate, we all know that you don’t want to go because Malfoy is going to be there.” Ron’s voice is smooth and sympathetic and Harry recognises it instantly from when he’s trying to convince Hermione to make him a cup of tea, “You can’t avoid him forever.”

“I can,” Harry snaps and Hermione squeezes his hand, looking over his head at Ron. Harry’s stomach clenches as he feels distinctly ganged up on.

“He’s right, Harry… You’re going to have to see him out of work eventually.” Hermione’s voice is soft too. Why are they all talking to him with a soft voice. He must be looking really shit.

“But why? I see him enough during the week. I don’t need to see him at the weekend. With her.” He whines and sits up, looking between the two of them. They look at each other and Harry holds back the groan. He’s seen that look a hundred times. They’re talking to each other through some sort of couple telepathy. Or Legilimency. Or whatever.

“Harry…” Hermione says finally and he thumps his head on the back of the sofa.

“You’re not going to stop nagging until I agree to go, are you?” Harry groans.

“Nope,” Hermione laughs and Harry turns his head to glare at her, “Besides… I have a plan.” She wiggles her eyebrows at him and he glances at Ron, who shrugs back.

Hermione has a plan. Well… fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading!


	50. In Which Draco Has To Practice Being A Malfoy

Draco knows the moment Harry steps into the ballroom at the Ministry. The volume in the room gets slightly louder, the energy picks up, there’s a general sense of something important having just happened. He forces himself not to run his hand through his hair, which he’s plastered to his head uncomfortably because that’s how his mother likes it. He turns slowly, trying not to draw attention to the fact that he’s searching the room, and his eyes land instantly on messy black hair, green eyes piercing into him from across the room. Right. So Harry’s still pissed. Well… perhaps that makes sense. A hand on his arm makes him turn back to the group in front of him.

“Draco,” Astoria traps him with a gaze and he feels a shiver go through him. He’s seen that look from his mother and father his whole life. That Draco-pay-attention-and-act-like-a-Malfoy look. He mentally shakes himself, schooling his features and turning back to the small wizard standing in front of him, trying not to look at the disapproval on his father’s face.

“Apologies Thomas,” Draco nods and the small man stops frowning at him, “It seems my mind wandered.”

“Not to worry. I was enquiring after the Malfoy estate. Am I to understand that you will be taking charge once you and Miss Greengrass are wed?” Thomas’ voice is too high, too officious and Draco forces himself not to wince. He raises an eyebrow, watching as Thomas blushes.

“Indeed,” Draco tries to keep his voice steady. Across the room he hears Harry laugh loudly and his chest feels tight. His fingers itch to run through his hair and he holds them together behind his back. He really needs a drink. Thomas nods, his head bobbing like it’s barely attached. Like one of those things that Hermione thinks are hilarious.

“Fantastic!” Thomas whines, “Just fantastic. We’ll have lots to talk about, I’m sure. I’m very interested in the investments you have in…”

“Perhaps now is not the time,” Draco cuts in, ignoring the flash of anger in his father’s eyes. Thomas looks nervous but nods, moving away from the group with a glance at Lucius. Draco feels the anger bubble in his stomach and holds onto it as he turns to face his father. Fuck him. He can go talk to Thomas fucking Greys if he wants to. 

“That was very rude of you, Draco,” his father drawls, his eyebrows raised and his long fingers wrapped tightly around the cane, “I expect you to remember that you are a Malfoy, and to act like one.”

“Like I could possibly forget,” Draco stands taller, puffing his chest out slightly. His father may be older, but Draco hasn’t spent years as an Auror without having the build to show for it. He watches as his mother places her hand on his father’s arm, his body aching as he tries to restrain himself. He cannot cause a scene here. He is a Malfoy. He must behave like one. 

Apparently some things never change.

Another laugh from across the room startles him out of his reverie and he takes a step back, nodding his head once to his father. Lucius looks pleased and Draco can’t help but feel sick. He’s just doing what his father wants. Just like always. There isn’t a reason to feel sick. He hears Weasley laugh again and bites down on the inside of his mouth, the bitter tang on blood filling his mouth.

“That’s better,” his father’s voice is clipped and Draco feels the embarrassment wash over him. Just like when he was a child. “Remember, there are people here that it would be… advantageous for us to be in good favour of. Thomas Greys is one of those people. He controls half of the properties on Knockturn.”

“Father, I am an employee of the Ministry…”

“Not for long…”

“I can’t be dealing in business with someone who controls half the property on Knockturn! I’ve probably raided half of his properties this year.” Draco feels his voice getting louder and takes a deep breath. Shouting at his father in the middle of a Ministry function would be a bad idea. 

“Indeed,” his father snaps and he closes his eyes for a second, feeling horribly like a copy of the man standing in front of him.

“Oh look, darling, there’s Harry Potter. Maybe we should go and say hello?” Astoria’s voice is high and Draco opens his eyes to stare at her. She gives him a sickly sweet smile and Draco fights back the biting remark. She doesn’t think they should say hello. She thinks she should stake claim over Draco by rubbing it in Harry’s face. He glances at his father who beams at Astoria and glares at Draco. Right. Don’t fuck this up.

“What an excellent idea Astoria,” Narcissa smiles at her future daughter-in-law and Draco bites the inside of his mouth again. The two women turn and look at him pointedly and he gives them both a tight smile before turning and walking towards his ex-life partner.

He doesn’t take Astoria’s offered hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading!


	51. In Which Harry Hates Ministry Functions But At Least He Has Ron And Hermione

Harry spots Draco the second he steps into the ballroom at the Ministry. His eyes are instantly drawn to white blonde hair and broad shoulders. Fuck, Draco looks good, the sleek black dress robes making him look strong and elegant. Well, that isn’t fair. Harry glares at the back of his head.

And then Draco starts to turn around, his grey eyes instantly on Harry’s and Harry frowns. Draco shouldn’t be allowed to look that good. Not with his hair all slicked back like that. They stare at each other for a moment, Harry’s heart beating so hard he can feel it in his fingertips. Maybe he’ll just go to Draco. Maybe he’ll just take him away. Maybe…

Astoria places her hand on Draco’s arm and he turns away. Maybe not.

Harry moves with Ron and Hermione, weaving between the tables.

“He’s talking to Thomas Greys… didn’t you bust his apothecary on Knockturn last week?” Ron asks, keeping his voice low as they slip between the tables, heading for the back of the room where there is the best vantage point. Harry smiles at people they pass, not really paying attention to anyone. His eyes flicker back to Draco.

“Yup…” Harry responds, watching as Draco listens to the short, jittery man.

“Wasn’t Malfoy the one who gave you the tip?” Ron asks.

“Yup…” Harry can see that Draco is tense, his shoulders stiff and his hands clasped behind his back. They arrive at a spot and stand for a moment, watching as Greys blushes.

“He looks like a bobble head,” Hermione muses and Harry laughs, the burst in his chest surprising him. Ron clings to his shoulder as they guffaw together, Hermione rolling her eyes and smiling at them. 

“I hate these things,” Harry mutters, moving so that his back is to Draco. If he can see him he’ll just watch him all night and Hermione’s plan won’t work. It probably won’t work anyway. It involves Harry speaking, and that’s never a good idea.

“We know, mate,” Ron grimaces at him and he frowns, “you’ve mentioned.”

“Fuck off…”

“Twat.”

“Wanker,” Harry grins at Ron, his stomach twisting and making him feel sick. Ok. He can do this. He can sit and joke with his best friends and not think about his ex-boyfriend standing less than 100 metres away. “Ok… it’s fine, I can do this…” he mutters and Hermione and Ron look at him for a moment.

A very short moment.

“What’s he doing now?” He mumbles and Ron groans, running his hands over his face.

“Seriously, Harry, we’re not going to spy on Malfoy all night are we?” Ron grumbles and Harry frowns at him. 

“Oh for goodness sake Ron, of course we are!” Hermione snaps, waving her hand at a nearby waiter, “don’t act like it’s a surprise. It’ll be just like sixth year all over again.” Ron laughs and Harry glares at her, his mouth open. His friends suck.

“I was not that bad in sixth year!”

“Oh, Harry, of course you were,” Hermione looks at him witheringly and Ron’s laugh gets louder. He was not that bad in sixth year! Ok, maybe he was a little obsessed with what Draco was doing, but he had every reason to be!

“Well… it’s a good thing I was. Because he was up to something then wasn’t he…”

“He isn’t really up to anything now though,” Ron says, pulling a face and Harry glares at him. Ron grins, handing a glass of whiskey to Harry as the waiter arrives. He gratefully accepts the glass and takes a sip, letting the heat of the whiskey run through him, his shoulders relaxing and his head stopping pounding. He turns to lean against the wall, snug between his two favourite people in the world. This is going to be ok. He can do this. He scans the room. Probably should look for threats.

And then he jumps like his arse is on fire, standing with his back to the room, his eyes wide as he looks at Hermione.

“Shit, Hermione, he’s coming over,” Harry mutters into his glass, “Fuck. What do I do?”

“It’s ok, Harry. It’ll be fine…” Hermione gives his arm a squeeze, but he didn’t spend a year in a tent with her not to know that she’s lying to him.

“It won’t be fine… It’s going to be fucking…” a cough stops Harry’s babbling and he turns to face the most annoying, most arrogant, and most sexy Auror in the room. 

“Hey Harry,” Draco breathes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly the end! Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading.


	52. In Which Draco Realises How Wrong Everything Is

“Hey Harry,” Draco feels the lump in his throat as he watches the panic in Harry’s eyes. He put that there. Him and his stupid father. He holds his hands together to stop himself from reaching out and taking Harry in his arms. Harry should never look that scared. 

“Hello Draco,” Harry breathes and Draco can’t take his eyes off him. His eyes roam over Harry’s face, taking in the dark shadows under Harry’s eyes, the tightness of his mouth. He put that there. He made Harry look like that. His stomach clenches at the thought, tears stinging the backs of his eyes.

“Harry,” Astoria reaches forward, clasping at Harry’s arm and Draco wants to rip it off. He digs his nails into his palm, the pain shooting through him distracting him from his fiancée pawing at his Harry. Except Harry isn’t his anymore. Fuck. 

“Miss Greengrass,” Hermione steps in, taking Harry’s arm and pulling him backwards to slot between her and Weasley and Draco feels the gratitude wash over him. He looks at Harry, their eyes meeting and he knows, just knows, that Harry hates this. That Harry doesn’t want to be in this situation either.

Why the fuck didn’t he fight?

“Miss Granger.” Astoria’s voice is too sweet and Harry’s eyes move away. Draco snaps his head to where Astoria and Hermione are glaring at each other, huge fake smiles plastered on their faces.

“How have you been, Draco?” Hermione asks him and he nods. 

“I’ve been…”

“Oh, have you heard the news?” Astoria cuts in and Draco frowns, watching as Hermione’s eyebrows rise, her eyes flashing dangerously before she schools her features and looks politely at Astoria. Astoria is an idiot. “We’ve set a date for the wedding! July 31st… the hottest day of the year!” her face glows and Draco watches as Harry’s shoulders slump.  
Astoria is a bitch.

“It’s a day I always remember,” he whispers, his heart jumping as he sees the corner of Harry’s mouth twitch. The urge to reach over and kiss that corner floods through him and he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stand still. 

“How wonderful for you,” Hermione sneers, her hand still firmly on Harry’s arm. Draco watches as Astoria takes a step back, clearly confused about how to respond to Hermione. He feels a sudden sense of pride that he taught Hermione how to sneer like that, her lip curling and her eyes dead. He glances at Weasley and sees the smirk on his lips before he catches Draco’s eye and gives him a small wink.

Yes… that’s where he should be. With his friends. Not with this woman.

“Yes… it’s wonderful for both of us,” Astoria looks to Draco, clearly looking for help, and he stares at her, not really sure what she wants him to do, “And as soon as we’re married Draco can leave the Aurors and take over the Malfoy estates. Where he belongs.” She finishes, her voice smooth. Draco feels the quick flare of anger in his chest and he glares at her as Hermione, Weasley and Harry look between the two of them. Astoria fidgets slightly on the spot under Draco’s gaze and he feels a small sense of triumph. She may look confident but she’s standing in front of three Aurors and Hermione fucking Granger. There’s no way she can hide. Draco continues to stare at her as a blush rises in her cheeks.

“You’re quitting your job?” Harry stutters and Draco can hear the hurt. If he leaves, he won’t get to see Harry every day. Maybe that’s what Harry will miss as well. 

“It’s still up for discussion,” Draco murmurs back and he thinks he sees Weasley’s hand move to Harry’s back. Right. The Golden Trio. Closing ranks.

“It would be a shame to see you go, mate,” Weasley says, his voice a little too loud and Draco sends a silent thank you to the universe for Ron Weasley. He shuffles forward slightly, needing to be with them.

“But it’s his duty to take over the Manor. As a pure-blood, I would have thought you’d understand that Ron?” Astoria pipes up, her voice high and sticky and Draco wants to scream. His eyes dart between the three of them, the look of shock on Hermione’s face, the anger on Weasley’s and the dull resignation on Harry’s. No. That’s wrong.

“Astoria…” Draco starts and she takes a step back, shaking her head at him.

“No, darling. I won’t have anyone make you feel like you’re making the wrong choice by doing what is expected of you. You’re doing the right thing,” her voice gets louder and Draco holds back the wince. No. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“Is it right?” Weasley asks, his skin flushing red and clashing with his hair, “if it’s not what Malfoy wants?” No. It’s wrong. Draco should leave her. He should move back to Grimmauld Place. He should go home.

“Yes. Doing your duty is always right,” Astoria steps closer to Draco, her hands wrapping around his arm and he feels trapped. No. This isn’t right. He needs to be with Harry. Not Astoria. This isn’t right. “Come, darling. Your mother is calling. Hermione, Harry, Ron.” Astoria nods at them and starts to walk away, her fingers digging painfully into Draco’s arm. He winces as her nails scratch against his skin and he thinks about pulling her hand off. Pushing her away. Taking Harry in his arms.

But then he hears his mother’s voice in his head, telling him how proud she is of him doing his duty. He can’t let her down. He can’t just leave and join Harry.

Maybe if he were a Gryffindor he could do it. But he isn’t, so instead he slithers away, dragged by the woman who is going to be his wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading!


	53. In Which Harry Makes A Very Obvious Speech

Harry feels sick. He watches Draco move around the room, graceful and relaxed and fucking gorgeous.

Wanker.

“Ready?” Hermione comes and shoves a glass of something fizzy and pink into Harry’s hand. He grimaces and downs it in one, the bubbles tickling his throat and making his nose itch.

“Not even fucking slightly,” Harry groans as Kingsley calls everyone to order and asks them to take their seats, “this is a terrible idea.”

“Yeah, well this is the only idea you got, so get up there…” Ron gives Harry a shove and Harry glares at him before moving through the crowd, smiling at people and trying to not throw up. This is a really bad idea.

Harry stands in the front of the hall of ministry officials, all waiting for him to say something inspiring, and stares at Draco. He looks stunning, the fucking bastard, in sharp black dress robes, his hair brushed back. Harry’s fingers itch to run through the silky strands, to mess it up and make that lock of hair fall into Draco’s eyes. Something catches in his throat and he’s about to say something when he sees Astoria slide her arm through the crook of Draco’s, leaning into him.

Well, fuck him.

Harry looks over to where Ron and Hermione are sat. Hermione gives him a smile and Ron glances over at Draco, giving him the dirtiest look Harry has ever seen Ron give. Right. He doesn’t need Draco. He has Hermione and Ron. The three of them against the world. The fucking Golden Trio.

“Apologies, ladies and gentlemen, apparently standing and speaking in front of large groups of people never gets easier,” Harry starts and a few people laugh, relaxing as Harry talks. He glances down at the paper Hermione has written his speech on and takes a deep breath, “We’re here today because… well because apparently every time me and Ron blow something up the Ministry has to pay for it. But also, much like every year, we want to remember. We want to remember the people who fought for us. We want to remember the people who died for us. We want to remember the people who have survived with us.” Harry shuffles on his feet, glancing back at Draco.

“When I first started in the Auror department, after completing our eighth year at Hogwarts, I was horrified to find that everything we had worked so hard to fight against in the war was still going on. There were still dark wizards and witches. There were still dark artefacts. There were still dark expectations. I had thought that by defeating Voldemort that I was ending something; that it was all going to be alright.”

“But then I grew up. Well, I say I grew up, actually I just moaned about it to Hermione and she told me to stop.” The room laughs and Harry smiles at Hermione as she blushes, grinning at him, “And in that conversation I realised something. There were always dark witches and wizards. There were always dark artefacts. There were always dark expectations.” Harry’s eyes find Draco’s and he watches as they ripple in the light of the chandelier.

“Voldemort wasn’t the first to want that power, and he won’t be the last. But it is through coming together, working with each other, and defying all expectations that we can make sure that when the next Voldemort comes along, he won’t get very far. Because his power came from the people standing with him, through fear, corruption, their own sense of greed. And it is together that we will stand strong, to ensure that it never happens again. That is what the people who died have left behind. Hope, freedom and strength. We are stronger together, and as long as we do what’s right, despite other peoples’ opinions and expectations, then together we can do anything. Thank you.”

Everyone starts clapping, shouting, cheering, but Harry can only focus on one person. Hermione comes up and presses a soft kiss to his cheek, wrapping him in her arms as Ron claps a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“You did great Harry,” she whispers in his ear and he holds her closer, breathing in the familiar smell of her perfume.

“It wasn’t too obvious?” Harry mutters back, letting go to allow Ron to steer them towards a table.

“Of course it was fucking obvious mate. You said the word ‘expectations’ a million fucking times. That’s the bloody point,” Ron keeps his voice low as people start to move, patting Harry on the back, chatting to other people, getting drinks. Harry takes a deep breath and grabs at Ron’s glass, downing it. He feels, rather than sees, that someone is standing behind him. Ron stiffens on his side and Hermione leans over to grab at his robes. Harry turns slowly, flanked by his two best friends to find the only Malfoy that he doesn’t want to see.

“What an excellent speech, Mr Potter. What a shame that it meant nothing,” Lucius drawls, his voice hard and cold before stepping to the side to reveal an incredibly uncomfortable Draco standing with an incredibly clingy Astoria. Harry feels his stomach tighten as he watches Draco run his fingers through his hair, snapping his hand away as Astoria scowls at him.

“It meant everything,” Hermione spits, taking Harry’s hand and beginning to pull away, “to the people who matter. And if I were you, Mr Malfoy, I wouldn’t antagonise Harry. I once kept a woman locked in a jar for a year.” She raises one eyebrow and for a second Lucius looks scared. Hermione drags Harry through the room, Ron following after them, ignoring the calls of people surrounding them.

“Ignore him. He’s a fucking prick.” Ron growls and Harry shrugs.

“He may be a prick, but he’s the prick who has Draco under his thumb,” Harry sighs, running his hand over his face, “I need to go home. Thanks for making me do this tonight guys. At least I know I tried.” Harry presses a soft kiss to Hermione’s forehead before wrapping his arms around Ron and giving him a hug.

“We’ll be back later. See you at home,” Hermione says as Harry nods and weaves his way through the crowd and out into the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading!


	54. In Which Draco Follows Harry

“Harry!” Draco shouts as he runs out of the ballroom. Harry stops, turning to look at him, his green eyes shining. Draco reaches out, his fingers itching to touch Harry, to feel his warmth.

“Draco?” Harry’s voice wavers and Draco knows that he’s being judged, that Harry’s Auror mind is working to figure out why Draco has run into the hallway to stop him from leaving. He takes a step closer, so close he could touch Harry if he wanted. And he so wants to. But he can’t. Not yet.

“Harry… I…” he breathes, not entirely sure what he needs to say. He needs to say that he’s not going to marry Astoria. That he’s not going to quit being an Auror. That he loves Harry. His heart pounds hard in his chest and his head feels fuzzy. He needs to go this. He can do it.

“Yes?” Harry prompts after a moment, not moving, his eyes trained on Draco.

“I just… I need to tell you…” he starts, his hand reaching out for Harry’s. A sudden noise makes him jump back, leaving the comfort of being near Harry.

“Draco? What are you doing out here? There are people you need to talk to inside.” His father glares at him, ignoring Harry standing there and Draco can see Harry relax into his anger. Fuck. Not good.

“Father…” Draco moves to stand between the two of them. If his father is going to hex anyone it’s going to be him.

“Draco. Now.” Lucius snaps, his eyebrow raised and Draco freezes. No. He’s not leaving Harry. Not again. Not ever. His hands clench into balls, his nails digging into his palm as his legs feel numb with the pressure. A soft hand on his arm startles him and he realises he hasn’t said anything out loud. Fuck. He turns to look at Harry, feeling the weight of his fingers wrapped around his arm, his heart aching for more. 

“Don’t go,” Harry whispers and Draco feels the tears prick in the corner of his eye.

“I…”

“Now, Draco.” His father shouts again and Draco’s head whips round to look at him. No. He can’t. He can’t just do what his father wants. Not anymore. He needs to be with Harry. It’s his life. He can do what he wants. His mouth is dry and his palms clammy as he stares at his father, not sure what to say.

“Have you ever thought about letting him speak for himself?” Harry spits, moving around Draco to get closer to Lucius. Draco’s hand reaches out to grab hold of him, but his body is numb and Harry’s robes slip from his fingers.

“Oh, Mr Potter, you assume that Draco would say something different if I were to allow it? No… you see, Draco knows where his rightful place is. As I said to you before, a very rousing speech, but really, what does it change?” His father sneers, looking down his nose at Harry.

“It could change everything, if you’d just let your son be happy!” Harry shouts back and Draco feels his body shaking. He needs to say something. To do something.

“Happy? With you I take it? How… delightfully absurd.” Lucius smirks and Harry growls, spinning on the spot to glare at Draco. Draco’s heart jumps into his mouth and his mind whirs.

“Draco. Draco, please,” Harry begs, holding out a hand. Draco looks at it, moving to wrap his fingers through Harry’s.

“Harry…” he whispers, their fingers almost touching.

“Draco. Inside. Now.” Lucius shouts and Draco winces, pulling his hand back and glancing at his father. Fuck. No. This is wrong. He doesn’t need to be scared. Harry looks at him, waves of anger flowing from him and Draco tries to stand tall. Tries to tell his father to shove his responsibilities up his arse. 

He really tries. 

After a moment Lucius smirks, a look of condescending triumph on his face and Draco watches as Harry looks between the two of them. Draco unable to move, not sure what to say, and his father, looking like a fucking prick.

“This is it, Draco,” Harry looks serious, his green eyes trained on Draco and Draco feels his whole body tighten, “You need to choose. I never wanted you to have to make the choice. But you do. It’s me or him.” Harry spits the last word, pointing to Lucius. Draco stares at his father. The only man whose opinion he’d ever cared about. Until… 

Draco looks back at Harry, images washing over him. Harry cooking dinner and dancing stupidly around the kitchen. Harry curled up on the sofa with a blanket over him, watching old films. Harry tapping his muggle pen as he filled in reports at home even though he should have done them in the office. Harry drinking shots with Weasley and Finnigan, slowly getting louder and drunker. Harry with his arms slung around Hermione and Ginny as they laugh at their partners. Harry smiling at him. Harry kissing him. Harry naked. Harry whispering ‘I love you’.

“You see, Potter,” his father drawls and Draco whips his head round to look at him, “given the choice Draco will always choose me. He knows where his loyalties lie. He knows his duties. He will always do what is expected of him.” Draco looks back at Harry, his mouth open, no words coming out and Harry nods once, giving Draco a sad look, before turning and leaving.

It takes a moment too long for Draco to realise he’s screaming in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading!


	55. In Which Harry Gets An Unexpected Visitor And Everything Is Alright In The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's nearly the end! Only one chapter left after this!

“I thought you were staying late?” Harry asks as Hermione and Ron step through their floo.

“No,” Hermione shakes her head, “we saw Draco and Lucius come back into the ballroom and…” she glances at Ron.

“We figured that here was where we needed to be.” Ron nods and Hermione smiles at him, before taking Harry’s hand and giving it a squeeze. A second later the doorbell rings. Harry frowns and looks towards the hallway.

“You’re going to want to get that,” Hermione’s smile gets wider and Harry walks into the hall, Ron and Hermione following him. The figure through the glass is tall, in black robes with striking blonde hair. Harry turns back to Hermione and Ron and they grin at him, nodding. “Just... Remember that you love him, Harry,” Hermione smiles at him and he nods once, his heart racing, his throat tight. He frowns, but takes a deep breath and moves towards the front door, hearing them move upstairs. 

“Fuck off,” Harry snaps the moment he opens his front door to find a slightly dishevelled and stupidly sexy Draco Malfoy on his front step. Draco's eyes dart to the door, his hand ready to stop it and Harry can't help but notice he's looking scared. His heart lurches and he clenches his fists to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing hold of Draco. Draco should never be scared.

“Please... Harry, please...” Draco begs, his voice too high, too full of panic and Harry can't help himself. He turns and walks into the living room, knowing that Draco will follow him. He tries to ignore the way his chest expands when he hears a sigh of relief and the door shutting. He will not just give in to Draco.

Harry walks to the middle of the room and turns around, crossing his arms over his chest. If his arms are crossed he's less likely to reach for Draco. Draco doesn't want him. He's made that clear. Draco looks wary. Good. He was the one who fucking left.

“What do you want Malfoy?” Harry spits, Draco's name sounding weird coming from his mouth. Draco flinches and Harry's heart jumps. No. Draco chose his fucking father, his fucking duties over Harry. He doesn't get Harry as well. Draco takes a step closer and Harry's mind whirs.

“Did... Did Hermione and Weasley see you yet?” Draco glances around and Harry growls.

“Why?” Harry doesn't know how his voice could have twisted so much, curling into something dark and furious. Draco runs his hand through his hair, the bit at the front immediately falling in front of his eye.

“I thought... Maybe they would have told you what happened after you left...” Draco's stammers. Harry frowns, shaking his head once.

“Why don't you tell me?” Harry feels his shoulders slump, his anger running out of him with every nervous gesture from Draco. Draco is never nervous. It's an oddly jarring look on him. He sees Draco take a deep shuddery breath, his beautiful grey eyes watery and Harry's resolve disappears. Because fucking hell, Draco should never look like this. Harry should never let someone make Draco look like this. He should fight for him, because that’s what Harry does. Harry is the one that fights.

“After you left... I... I couldn't do it. I... Fuck Harry... I couldn't give you up... I...” Draco's voice gets higher with each stuttered word, “I love you.” Harry watches him as Draco seems to fold. He wants to go to him, to tell him it’s ok. But he can’t. Draco has said that before. Draco’s eyes flash, scanning over Harry’s face and Harry’s heart jumps. “I choose you,” Draco whispers, his legs finally giving way.

It takes Harry less than a second to step forward, pulling Draco to him. Harry's arms wrap around Draco, feeling his weight and heat seep through him, Harry's body crying out at finally being able to touch Draco. Draco shakes in his arms and his hand instinctively goes to Draco's hair, brushing it away from his face as Draco gasps into his shoulder.

“It's ok Draco. I've got you. I'm right here,” Harry whispers in Draco's ear, smelling the expensive aftershave, the heat of Draco and feeling dizzy. After a moment Draco stops shaking and Harry feels Draco nod and pull away. He loosens his arms, swallowing as he feels the panic rise in his throat.

“It's ok Harry,” Draco says, looking him in the eye, looking stronger, “It's ok. After you left I had a conversation with my father... Well I say conversation. More like huge fight in the middle of a ministry ball...” Harry frowns, taking a step backwards. Draco smiles at him, his whole face lighting up, and Harry takes a deep breath. He's ok. Harry doesn't have to worry.

“What happened... Are you ok?” Harry glances over his body. It sort of feels like something's wrong.

“I'm fine. I'm great. Fuck, Harry, I stood up to my father! I told him... I told him it was you or nothing. Fuck!” Draco shouts and Harry frowns, watching as Draco gets slightly hysterical. A moment later the door opens and Ron comes rushing in, his eyes wide, looking worried.

“Merlin, Malfoy, fancy not shouting ‘fuck’ loudly in the house? I thought Harry had punched you!” Ron grins at him and collapses into the armchair. Hermione walks in sheepishly and perches on the edge of the chair, looking between Draco and Harry. Harry’s head spins, his stomach clenching, a sick feeling rising in his stomach.

“Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” He shouts, looking between his best friends and his…

“I told my father the wedding is off. I told him I wasn’t going to marry Astoria. I told him I was going to marry you. That any children I have will be yours. I told him that he needed to deal with it, or he’d never see the Malfoy heir, current or future,” Draco’s eyes shine and Harry glances at Ron and Hermione. They smile at him, nodding slightly and he looks back to the crazed man standing in the middle of his living room.

“I’m sorry… you… uh?” Harry frowns.

“I told my father to fuck off out of my life. I told him I was done doing what he wanted. I’m done doing my duty.” Draco steps closer, his long fingers running over Harry’s arms, sending shivers down Harry’s spine. “I choose you.” Draco whispers and Harry feels like his heart is ripping through his chest. His legs wobble and Draco moves forward, his long arms wrapping around Harry, his fingers sliding into Harry’s hair, his nose stroking against Harry’s. Harry doesn’t notice as Ron and Hermione slip from the room.

“But he’s your dad…” Harry stutters, his mouth dry. Draco chose him. Draco fought for him. Draco stood up to his father for him. He made the first move. He put himself on the line. He…

“I know. I don’t care. It’s you, Harry… it’s always been you.” Draco whispers, his breath tickling Harry’s lips. Harry moves his hands to slide around Draco’s waist as their lips finally meet, soft and hot and perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading!


	56. In Which Draco Asks An Important Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mushy note at the end if you want to read it! Enjoy!

Draco takes a deep breath, smelling the warm, familiar morning smell of Harry. He tightens his arms around Harry’s waist and pulls him closer, feeling the hard muscles of Harry’s back against his chest. It’s perfect and beautiful and exactly where Draco needs to be. Nuzzling his nose into Harry’s hair, feeling it smooth against his skin, he sighs and tightens his grip. Yes. Exactly here. He runs his toes along Harry’s legs, twisting their feet together, not able to think of anything but Harry’s bare skin against his.

He gets this. This is his, and he gets to have this forever. He hasn’t spoken to his father in a month, not since what Hermione calls ‘The Incident’. He hasn’t thought about what his father expects or what is happening at the Manor. He hasn’t been anywhere near a tailor. It’s blissful. Hermione and Weasley had gone over to the Manor and collected his things. Apparently there had been a scene but neither of them will talk about it. 

“Mm. Tickles,” Harry murmurs, his voice thick and full of sleep. Draco chuckles and pulls Harry impossibly closer, pressing soft kisses to the back of his neck. Harry turns in Draco’s arms, his green eyes bleary and gives Draco a grin. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Draco says, his fingers stroking along the ridges of Harry’s back. Harry presses a soft kiss to Draco’s lips and Draco’s eyes close as his world narrows. Harry’s lips move against his, opening as Draco runs his tongue along Harry’s bottom lip. Draco relaxes into Harry, the bitter tang of morning mixing with the sweetness of Harry, and he shuffles them both so that Harry is pinned underneath him, his arms wrapped around the other man.

“Oh?” Harry mumbles into Draco’s mouth and Draco can’t help but smile. He rocks his hips forward, feeling the delicious weight of Harry cock, hard and thick and just for him. Their cocks slide together and Harry starts to whimper, beautiful little sounds that come from the back on his throat, his kisses becoming deeper and more desperate.

Moving his lips, Draco starts mouthing at Harry’s jaw, licking at the pulse point, sucking and nipping at the soft skin of his neck where his stubble grows thinner. He runs his tongue over the new mark before moving lower to lap at Harry’s nipples, making them harden. Harry arches his back, his moans getting louder and Draco says a silent thank you to the silencing charms he put on the door last night.

Harry’s fingers run through Draco’s hair and Draco can’t help but growl against Harry’s skin as a pulse of need runs through him. Fuck, Harry knows exactly how to get him going. His cock aches and his fingers are numb as all the blood rushes to his groin. Draco slips between Harry’s legs, running his long fingers up Harry’s thighs as he starts to nuzzle at the coarse hair at the base of Harry’s cock. Harry smells warm and heady and Draco’s mouth starts to water.

Sticking his tongue out he gently licks a strip along Harry’s cock, from base to tip, before taking the head into his mouth, hollowing out his cheek and sucking. Harry arches off the bed and Draco digs his fingers into Harry’s hips to keep him still as he starts to bob his head. He rolls his tongue around Harry’s cock, feeling it pulse, smooth and hot and powerful. And his. Forever. Only his. How did he get so lucky? How does he get to have this?

With a pop he removes Harry’s cock, ignoring the groan of protest, and moves to take Harry’s balls into his mouth. He sucks gently before moving lower, spreading Harry’s legs wider and pushing them back so that he can get a look of Harry’s arse. It’s pink and puckered and Draco knows he needs it. And he gets to have it. He leans forward, licking over the muscles and Harry cries out. Draco grins to himself before pressing forward, pointing his tongue and flicking against the ring, feeling Harry clench for a second before relaxing.

“You taste so fucking good,” Draco breathes before burying himself between Harry’s arse cheeks, lapping at Harry’s entrance, slowly relaxing the muscles. He starts to poke the tip of his tongue into Harry, tasting him, earthy and strong. Harry whines, rocking his hips back onto Draco’s tongue. Draco lets go of Harry’s hips and holds out his hand, summoning the lube, practicing his wordless and wandless magic.

He leans back on his knees and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking down at his boyfriend, spread-eagled on their bed. Their bed. His boyfriend. Forever. Hopefully. Harry opens his eyes and stares at Draco, the green almost black with lust.

“Please, Draco… I need you in me.” Harry’s voice cracks and Draco can’t help but lean forward and place a soft chaste kiss to his lips as he flicks open the tube of lube and squeezes some on his hand. He leans back again, slicking up three fingers and rubbing the left over lube on his cock. Fuck, he’s not going to last long. Especially after last night. His cock twitches and his heart aches as flashes of the night before run through his mind.

Harry wiggles his hips and Draco turns his attention back to this morning. He runs one slick finger over Harry’s hole and smirks as Harry jumps, before pressing his finger against the muscles. The tip of his finger passes through the tight ring and Draco squeezes the base of his cock as he feels the tight heat around his finger. He starts to move, slowly working Harry open, pressing a second finger, a third finger into Harry when Harry starts to mewl.

He watches as Harry fucks himself of Draco’s fingers and starts to scissor them, knowing Harry, knowing the sounds and movements that tell Draco that Harry is ready. Knowing   
that when Harry tops it’s exactly the same. That they know each other better than anyone else in the world. Harry’s breath hitches and his knuckles go white where he’s clenching the sheets and Draco knows.

Sliding his fingers out of Harry he takes his cock and lines up, pressing the head against the loosened entrance. He thrusts in slowly, inch by inch, letting Harry adjust, until he is fully seated. He falls forward to lean his forehead against Harry’s as he waits for Harry to get used to the intrusion. After a moment Harry opens his eyes and looks at Draco and Draco can’t breathe. There’s so much love, so much want in Harry’s eyes and Draco knows that this is forever. Hopefully.

“I love you,” Draco whispers and Harry smiles, his whole face lighting up.

“I love you,” Harry replies and Draco crashes their lips together as he starts to move his hips, rolling into Harry, their tongues twining together. Harry feels so tight, so hot, so perfect around Draco’s cock and Draco can’t think of anything else in the world but this. Harry’s cock rubs against his stomach, trapped between their bodies and his mouth moves fluidly against Draco’s. 

Draco feels his balls tightening and he knows he’s close. He pants into Harry’s mouth, their breath mingling as his hips thrust, pumping into Harry. Harry wraps his arms around Draco’s neck, keeping them close together, his fingers playing with Draco’s hair. He’s close too. It’s in his eyes and the way his breathing has got harsher, quicker. Draco kisses him hard, pouring all his love into the kiss and Harry comes with a groan between them, his come sticky and warm against their skin.

The fluttering around Draco’s cock pushes him over the edge, his hips moving erratically, his release filling Harry. He sees stars as his whole body clenches, his eyes stuck on Harry’s. Harry holds him close as he comes through the haze of this orgasm, his whole body heavy. He pauses for a moment, feeling his cock soften inside Harry before collapsing next to him. Harry wriggles, picking up his wand from the bedside table and casting a quick cleaning spell. Draco shivers as he feels Harry’s magic run over him. He’ll never get enough of feeling that.

Harry puts his wand back and settles on Draco’s chest, his hair tickling at Draco’s nose. Nuzzling at Harry’s head, Draco smiles to himself and listens to Harry breathing. His heart aches as they drift in and out of sleep. Harry’s fingers draw patterns on Draco’s chest. This is perfect. This is exactly what Draco wants, for the rest of his life. Just to be together, like this, forever. Maybe now is the time. He shifts slightly and Harry props himself up on one elbow, glowering at Draco.

“What are you doing?” Harry grumbles, his hair a mess, his eyes sparkling through the exhaustion. Draco raises one eyebrow and leans over the bed to grab his trousers. He shuffles around the pockets, looking for the box that he’s had in there for the past three weeks. He feels Harry move to lean across him, trying to look at what Draco is doing. Draco pushes him slightly and sits back up, his fingers wrapped tightly around the box.

“So… I have a something I want to ask you,” Draco coughs, turning to look at Harry. Harry’s eyes are wide and he shuffles to grab his glasses. He turns back to Draco and blinks, a flush rising in his cheeks, his mouth hung open. Draco takes a deep breath and holds the box out. “When I was growing up it was always understood that I would do what my father wanted. That I’d marry some pureblood witch and have an heir and run the Malfoy businesses. I never expected that I could have anything that I wanted. But then you came along and asked me to go to the pub and I’d had a really shit day and just wanted to be somewhere with someone who wanted me because of me, and not because of what they assumed I would do for them. You’ve made me happier than I can ever explain to you. You’ve given me so much. You’ve given me the freedom to be myself and… I just want to be able to do that for you. Or at least to try. So… Harry Potter, love of my life,” Draco opens the box and Harry’s eyes flick down to the silver band, intricately carved with a dragon, “marry me?”

Harry stares at him for a moment and Draco can feel his pulse in his fingers. Fuck. This is why he’s not a Gryffindor. Maybe this was the wrong time. Maybe he should have taken Harry on a date. Maybe he should have done it somewhere super romantic. Maybe…

“Fuck, yes!” Harry shouts, wrapping his arms around Draco’s neck and crashing their lips together, and Draco know that this is it. There is nothing more that he could need or want, as long as he has Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was going to wait until tomorrow morning to post the last part, but apparently I have no patience! This has been such a crazy experience and I have loved every second. I hope that you've all loved it too! A special thank you to all those people who have been reading from the start, and a really big special thank you to those who have commented on pretty much every chapter (you know who you are, I know who you are, I love you all!) - you kept me going! This is my first ever Drarry series (and also my first ever Drarry story) and I hope I did them justice!
> 
> Thank you all for reading! whether it was as I was writing or all in one go afterwards.
> 
> Kudos and comments are seen, read, and loved!


End file.
